On Earth as it is in Hell
by Caleb Nova
Summary: Though the battles of the past have rid the world of the Sorceress' shadow, the SeeDs of Balamb Garden will soon learn that the greatest threats do not always come from within.
1. Intro

**On Earth as it is in Hell**  
by Caleb Nova

**_Opening statement._****_ The following records will detail the events concerning _****_Universe 46312465, taking place on the Beltram time strand between syncs 657-45 and 657-4._**

****

**_You may begin._**

It is raining.

Simple a statement to make it would seem, but the embodiment of the scene that lies before us.

You stand on a pile of broken mortar, raindrops splashing and dribbling down the cracked and worn lines of what might have been a great structure. Before you rises the silhouette of a hulking shape, blotting out the sky for several hundred feet, what surely must have been a mighty monument, but still fragile as anything created by man. Broken girders frame a collapsed roof, sticking out at jagged angles towards the gray sky, looking for all the world like a mouth screaming in final agony. And all around you are other littered pieces of destruction, offering no hint as to what they may have been.

As you walk towards the monolith, you begin to see twisted walls and sloped floors covered in bricks, walling, shingles, glass, and blood. Pushing past these obstructions, you reach the center: a hollow, burnt-out gutted space seared by unimaginable fires. On the ground before you lies an object, a large sign, with inscriptions on it, words smeared by soot or broken by ways unknown. You can decipher one or two: Library, Cafeteria, Quad...

What happened here? What forces broke this place, turning it into the debris-ridden skeleton of what it once was? To find out, we must go back seven years...


	2. Foreboding

_"Why was SeeD made? Like any company SeeD is here to make money, Sorceress shit aside. We are the employers, you are the employees. So get back to work!_"

-Unknown SeeD Instructor in response to student query

The Universe is uneasy. A complex concept to be sure, but as true a one as there ever was. It hangs in the dimension we call home, powered by an unknown psyche, a presence of order or creation. Encompassing all the matter we know of, the Universe is for all intents, infinite. Yet still, it hangs in balance, a fragile creation of some Great Design. On the surface, it is black and white, good and evil. But the line between the two is not always clear, and the truth not readily apparent.

-

Zell Dincht was at peace with life in general, or as much as one could be. Why shouldn't he be happy, pleased even? He had every right to be so. But somehow, at the back of his mind, like an itch he couldn't scratch, he felt something was not well. For the life of him, he couldn't imagine what, but a sense of foreboding rasped at his conscience, making him falter for a minute on his way to the Cafeteria.

But only for a minute.

Zell strode into the Cafeteria with a smile on his face and Triple Triad cards in his hands. Today he felt, was his lucky day.

"Hey!" Zell yelled at the players in the back. "Who wants to play the Master?"

His shouted query was met with assorted groans and eye rolling. Normally, playing Triple Triad and losing was not a horrible situation- a card or two was lost, and then you could simply quit the field. But in Zell's mind, it wasn't fun unless the stakes were high. Sky high.

Zell slid into a chair across from Kevin, whom he felt was a worthy opponent, and slapped his deck on the table. "I bet half my cards and 200 gil!"

Kevin shook his head. "Zell, don't be an idiot. Just play like the rest of us, okay?"

Zell stubbornly crossed his arms, directing a challenging look at Kevin. "What are you afraid of? Losing? Like you always lose?"

Kevin sighed in exasperation. "You just don't get it, do you. I think perhaps some education is in order."

Zell grinned like a shark.

"Let's do this!"

Carefully picking the cards he wanted, Zell played to his utmost of ability, choosing his moves and carefully considering his options. At last, he lay down his final card and looked up at Kevin, chuckling in smug superiority, with the air of a man who could not possibly lose.

Kevin raised his head. "I win."

Zell did a double take.

Kevin pointed it out. "See? It's all there."

"Wha! No, no, you cheated! See you got that card there... No wait...Well, that other card, no, damn! What about.. Shit."

Zell reluctantly dug into his pocket and produced the money.

"And the cards?"

Scowling at Kevin, he cut his deck and passed over his cards.

Kevin smiled at him. "Thank you, hope we can play again."

Zell left with as much dignity as he could muster.

Walking out of the Cafeteria, Zell felt depressed. That had to have been the third time in the week he had lost at Triple Triad, and he was running short on cards. It was something he had never thought could happen. His confidence shattered, a gloom descended on him, making the world seem dim. As is the case in most such moods, all his other problems in life came to mind, adding to his burden, and he unconsciously began to tick them off in his mind.

He was losing at Triple Triad, Squall and the others except for Rinoa had gone on that diplomatic mission to Galbadia, Selphie wasn't around…

His mind stopped at Selphie. The issue was the relationship between them, or to be more specific, the lack of. He had watched her from afar since.. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't. It wasn't that she was snubbing him, Selphie was too sweet for that. He was too shy, and he had waited too long, for now she was with Irvine. Missed opportunity. The story of his life.

Irvine. The name invoked a series of mixed feelings, most of them edging towards anger. From day one they were like two opposite sides of a coin, never really agreeing on anything. He had always thought Selphie deserved better, but he knew that argument sounded rather flimsy when his mind told him he was that better man. A hypocrite was something Zell never wanted to be, Seifer's fine example etched in his mind. And when push came to shove, deep down where it really counted- Irvine was his friend.

But didn't he deserve something? Zell was tired of being last in line and first to be forgotten. All he wanted was Selphie, or at least a chance, and that was the one thing he couldn't have. If she just wanted to be friends, he supposed he could live with that, but lately she had been distant and distracted, not at all her normal self. It was almost as if something was weighing on her mind, sometimes he would catch her on the verge of tears. When questioned though, she would just shake her head, explaining that everything was fine, giving him a weak, but still beautiful, smile. When Selphie was moody, something was most definitely wrong.

Zell didn't wish to dwell though, not now. The Library was having a book sale from the back shelves, something he didn't want to miss.

-

Silence settled over the Galbadian Court as Squall finished his final speech.

"As such, Garden extends its full apology to the Galbadian government for any damage done during the fighting, knowing that it was acting under the total control of the Sorceress Ultimecia, and wishes you all success as a country and as a people. Please know that SeeD is always standing by to extend a hand in friendship."

If the Court noted that he didn't mention any reparations, they didn't say anything. The Head of State took the floor.

"Thank you all for representing SeeD at this gathering. Let it be known the Galbadian people harbor no ill will towards the name of SeeD, and all apologies are accepted."

Squall nodded, looking into the man's eyes for sign of illusion. He noted none but the ease of the acceptance troubled him.

"Thank you for having us."

The Head smiled. "Thank you for coming."

Straight, to the point, and unheard of in politics. Something was wrong.

After an uncomfortably lengthy reception afterward, Squall slowly walked down the steps from the Courthouse, eyes on the ground in deep concentration. He didn't trust the Head, not at all. The man not only had ample motivation to move against SeeD, but Squall was sure he had personal reasons as well. The Galbadian people harbored no ill will towards the name of SeeD. Bullshit. The Galbadians considered SeeD nothing more than common terrorists with delusions of grandeur. The Sorceress EdeaUltimecia had been willingly embraced as a leader, if not by the people then certainly by the government, and both SeeD and Galbadian alike knew it. As far as he was concerned, Squall knew violence was all but inevitable. The complexities of nations, silent ships passing and crashing in the dark. The individual is intelligent, but people as a whole are stupid.

Quistis hurried to catch up with him, shoes clacking loudly on the marble stairs. "Squall, wait up!"

Squall stopped and turned to her. Quistis halted next to him and looked over, eyes searching his face. "What did you think?"

Squall didn't need a moment's deliberation to decide his feelings. "Something isn't right. That was too easy."

Quistis nodded. "Those were my feelings too." She hesitated for a second, before continuing. "Do you think they will move against Garden?"

Squall frowned. "At this stage I think they may be too weak to wage an all out war on SeeD."

She nodded and blew a stray hair away from her eye. "I hope you're right."

Squall smiled slightly, only barely noticeable. "So do I." They walked in silence the rest of the way, both contemplative. Quistis reached the car first, and turned to look at him.

"When do you-" Squall cut her off by shaking his head, indicating with his hands that the car might be bugged.

"Irvine and Selphie are waiting at the hotel, we should discuss this with them." They both climbed into the car.

_-_

_Deep within a dimension unreachable by humankind, something moved. It opened its eyes, slowly at first, sensing the oncoming tide of destruction, almost tasting the strife. It closed its eyes worriedly, wondering if, in the end, would its people be destroyed?_


	3. The Thesis

_"Why do all those small candy bars say, "Fun Size" on them? There's nothing fun about a small candy bar."_

-Zell Dincht

_A galaxy hung suspended in the Universe, vast and complex in its wonder. Billions of stars followed their preset rotation, traversing the great distances ordained by mutual gravity. But something did not follow this majestic pattern, this grandiose scheme. Erratic in motion and hectic in thought, small, unpredictable happenings occurred on a small, blue-green planet, deep within the system... _

-

The Hotels in Galbadia were and always had been infamous for one thing: Price. No matter how shabby or decrepit the building the owners inevitably charged an exorbitant sum. Since all the hotels in the region plied their trade the same way, a business man or passing tourist had no choice but to eventually be what could only be described as robbed, providing a key staple in the Galbadian economy.

In one such hotel on the west side of the city of Deling sat Selphie, lost in thought and in such a Squall-like pose that she seemed mimic his mental anguish perfectly. That someone might be doing that in itself was not unusual. That Selphie Tilmitt would be in such a state most certainly was out of the ordinary. If Selphie's head were transparent, her every thought displayed as wispy words and memories floating through the conscience, we would see one word predominately repeated: Irvine.

At that moment the person in question entered the room, sauntering over to the window that she looked out of. His gaze drifted over her body, taking in her petite form. He smiled to himself when he realized she was distracted, unaware of his presence. Slowly, he reached out and placed his hand gently on her shoulder.

Selphie jumped at the sudden touch. She spun around, but instead of relaxing at the sight of him, she only seemed to grow tenser. She forced a smile. "Hi, Irvine."

He smiled down at her, while searching her eyes for the problem. "Looking at something in particular?"

Selphie lowered her eyes under his gaze. "Oh, nothing. Just the lights I guess." She stood up and smoothed down her skirt. "Are Quistis and Squall back yet?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. Soon I think, the Senate should have adjourned about twenty minutes ago."

They stood in an uncertain silence for a minute, Selphie with her mind elsewhere, Irvine wondering where that was.

He moved first. "Um.. Selphie, I.. Is something wrong? I mean, not that I want to intrude or anything, but you've been pretty quiet for the past couple days, and-" Selphie cut him off.

"No, Irvine, I'm fine. Thanks for asking though," She said rather coldly, making him take an involuntary step back. Her eyes widened as she caught herself, shocked at her own tone. She let out a breath and started walking to the door.

"I'm going to go downstairs."

Irvine stood, confused. What had he done?

-

On our world, the planet Earth, in 1972, a scientist by the name of Frederick Gallern made a discovery while testing some equipment of his own design. While looking at isotopes in his private lab, he noticed something strange. The isotope he was testing on had an echo, a second isotope that was faintly readable, but he couldn't actually perceive. Believing it to be human error, he performed the same tests on other forms of matter, and all rendered the same faint shadow. Why? This led him to speculate on the only reason he believed this might be true: Parallel Universes. Quantum Theory already had laid the basis for these ideas, but what Gallern had was something more concrete. That night, Gallern went home, and wrote was to be called, the 'Tunnel Thesis'.

Gallern theorized that other, similar universes existed close to ours, much like Quantum Theory. But unlike Quantum Theory, Gallern did not believe these universes were branches of our timeline. Quantum Theory says that infinite universes are created every second. Everything you could have done that you didn't, everything that could have happened but never did, cause another universe to be created when the instance might have occurred. Most people think that means that there is just another universe where you didn't go to the grocery store, but in fact, this applies to everything. Quantum Theory states that there is another universe next to us that is exactly the same, except the molecules in one piece of carpet didn't blow the same way when the air conditioner came on. And then another where the air conditioner didn't come on at all. That every possibility spawns a world.

But Gallern thought that this wasn't true. His theory explained that the other universes are either like that, or completely different. The theory stated that all the universes were interconnected, like a web, and as such all the universes affected the other, or manifested themselves in some way. Gallern theorized that these manifestations came in the form of books, stories, and the like. Universes so close to ours echoing in the minds of many, coming as thoughts, spurring creativity. If the thesis was true, how many writers were not penning fiction, but in fact history?

Gallern believed that travel between these worlds was possible, by connecting a piece of matter and its shadow by a method he called, 'Tunneling'.

The Tunnel Thesis became the subject of fierce debate within all circles of the scientific world, but the theory was never proved, or likewise disproved.

The controversy died out in 1986, when Gallern passed away of a fatal heart attack. The papers were filed, the materials disposed of and the Thesis was largely forgotten, a memory amongst the new sciences of today.

What the scientific community was not privilege to was that in 1993 the government set up a laboratory near Granite Peak, Utah. This laboratory's only purpose was to unravel the mystery of Tunneling. Known only to a few, the lab was utterly secret, due to the military options that would present themselves if the experiment was successful.

Over the next five years some progress was made, but no matter was ever actually transported interdimensionally. Then, in 1998, a portal was finally created to another world. It was unstable however, and the researchers were unable to see to the other side. After several days of watching it, the team decided it was stable enough to send someone through. Several volunteers were screened, and in the end, one man was decided on, Scott Keyor. Keyor was 26 years old, drawn from a pool of possible volunteers from various military organizations. His willingness to cooperate and interest in the science involved made him the key candidate for the test.

After months of preparation, the portal was opened, and Scott walked through. It would be the first and last mistake the Granite Peak Science Station would ever make. Scott had just entered when the strain of actual transportation proved too much for the portal, and the little stability attained was lost almost immediately. Desperately, the GPSS tried to pull him back through, but the collapsing portal did not provide enough Tunnel Space to bring him back into safety. Only five minutes after entering the alien universe, Scott Keyor was stranded from the dimension he called home.

In the next few months, many attempts were made to open another portal, but none succeeded. In late 1999 the government cut their funding, and Project GPSS was disbanded indefinitely.

-

Squall emerged from the car deep in thought, images of the council bouncing through his mind. Something wasn't right, not at all. The Galbadians had shown an almost obsessive resistance to SeeD in the past, and despite their political problems, there wasn't any really pressuring reason to forgive Garden.

Perhaps something was forcing Galbadia's hand? Esthar certainly had the military drive to do so, but no motivation was present and he couldn't really see Laguna putting himself in that position. Esthar had always taken the passive road, a stoutly isolationist country, a fact for which Squall was sure the Galbadians gave thanks to daily. However, a more sinister strain of dealings above and beyond, or rather below, the government's sight took place constantly, a recycling routine of murder and deceit.

Squinting through the polluted mist that always seemed to cover Deling, Squall could make out the slim form of Selphie, back lit by the twin posts flanking the double doors. He was somewhat surprised she was out this time of night with the weather like it was. Irvine was also noticeably absent from her side. As Squall drew closer, the look on her face could only be recognized by a kindred tortured soul, a kind of mental anguish that Squall could see written on her pretty features all too well.

And like Zell, an icy moment of near prophecy descended over him, and for one instant in time, he was positive something terrible was going to happen. Then, as quickly as it came, the feeling passed.

Selphie spoke only after he and Quistis had stopped right in front of her.

"How was it?" She asked, rather blandly it seemed.

He shook his head. "I'm not really sure." Squinting against the harsh lamp light, Squall peered through the slightly open doorway. "Where's Irvine?"

"He's inside." The tone of her voice made it evidently clear no further questioning was permitted.

"Oh." A few moments of awkward silence prevailed. Quistis broke it.

"We should get inside," She said, taking a step towards the door. Squall moved with her, but Selphie stayed were she was.

"I'll be coming soon. Just need some air..." She turned back to the night sky. Squall hesitated, then thought better of interfering.

He walked away, but halted just inside the door to look back at Selphie. _I wish Rinoa was here... She would know what to do._

-

Zell walked quickly down the hall, punching the air occasionally. At this particular moment in time he was bored as all hell, and as such, he fell back upon one of his favorite pastimes: eating. Striding towards the cafeteria, Zell knew he had to get there fast before the hot dogs were all gone, a circumstance that frequently plagued him. After arriving he looked at the line, and if it was possible his jaw would have dropped to the floor. At the head of the line was none other than Rinoa.

Zell ran over just as Rinoa bought not one, not two, but three hot dogs. Frantically he turned to the lunch lady but she shrugged apologetically and turned away. Zell glared desperately after Rinoa.

Rinoa looked at him, then the hot dogs. She smiled teasingly and sat down. Zell was drawn to the hot dogs, an irresistible force. "Rinoa! You gotta give me a hot dog!"

"Hmm... I don't know Zell," She said as she picked up the mustard and put and excessive amount on, knowing that Zell craved mustard.

"Oh my God... Rinoa! You know I need it!" Zell shouted. All the people at the adjacent lunch tables had gone quiet.

"Zell!" Rinoa exclaimed. Zell looked puzzled for a second, then he slowly smiled as the connotation of what he had just said hit him.

"Rinoa... I need you to give it to me! Right now!" Zell grinned. The entire lunch room had by now fallen silent.

Rinoa glared daggers at him, then handed him a hot dog. Zell's smiled increased.

"I'm not getting enough Rinoa, I need more!" He held out his other hand.

"_I am going to murder you!_" She hissed as she handed him another hot dog. Zell just smiled as he sat down across from her.

Zell poured on the mustard and said, "Thanks for giving it to me."

Rinoa did not deign to reply. Zell began to eat the hot dog, and everyone else returned to their rudely interrupted meals.

-

A man walked through the streets of Deling. His blond hair was short and trimmed, but grimy. He wore a dirty and scuffed jumpsuit, which was once blue but was now faded and torn in places, with the letters 'GPSS' stenciled on his shoulder. His eyes were a little wild, sunken, darting from place to place. His skin might have once held a light tan but was now pale and slicked with sweat. His face could have been considered handsome but it was etched with fear.

He walked with urgency, avoiding crowds and skirting main roads. He strode through town for hours, looking for something it seemed, from dawn to dusk, asking strange questions about scientists, or inquiring about technology or things even the small children were expected to know. By the time the sun set, the bus conductors almost knew him by name, and the same query followed him wherever he went. "Where to now, Scott?".

Then, suddenly and inexplicably, he stopped. His eyes widened and his breathing quickened as he stared at the petite figure of a woman standing outside the Galbadian Hotel. A spark of hope entered his eyes.

He jogged, almost ran over to Selphie, and as she stared at him and he stared back, he opened his mouth and said, "Are you Tilmitt? Slephie Tilmitt?"

Selphie gazed at him for a minute. Then cocking her head sideways, she shrugged.

"_Selphie _Tilmitt. Who's asking?"

Palpable relief washed over him like a wave. "Thank god! I thought I'd never know where I was!"

_Again, that ethereal presence stirred. Something was here that was not supposed to be. This human, this man, he was, different?_ _No, he was human, but yet, he was not the same. The puzzle expanded to fill its mind, until horrible realization dawned. The seals had been breached._

:AN: Special thanks to Gene for writing the cafeteria scene.


	4. Vicarious Reality

_"By the time we reached the Castle, we had become more than family, and fighting together was second nature. Sometimes I think if we could have seen ourselves in action, so efficient and cold, that it would be frightening even to us."_

_-_Irvine Kinneas, _The SeeD and the Sorceress_

_A twisted cortex of synapses and reflex, a sparkling and flashing machine made of basic matter, extreme in its complexity and boundless in its wonder. A standing testament to all that makes us human, the brain fuels a swirl of ever changing reactions and counter-reactions. A careful balance between genius and insanity, anything can tip the scale_.

-

Julian Foss was born in 1956, son to Robert and Mary-Anne Foss, a middle-class couple living in Sacramento. Robert was the foreman in an early electronics firm, and from an early age Julian had experience with high-tech products.

After graduating from high school with top honors in 73', Julian applied for and was accepted by Yale University. During his 5-year term there he studied business and financing, becoming more and more adept at running companies. And manipulation.

After graduation Julian hopped from one company to the other, until eventually he was hired by Microsoft for three years, becoming a top CEO in the administration. He voluntarily left after Microsoft accused him of embezzling funds from the Treasury department. None of the accusations were ever proven.

In 1989, after working in several other software companies, Julian founded the blandly named TAA, Technical Applications America. TAA became a mover and shaker behind the scenes of the business world, quickly gaining suppliers and quietly increasing in size. TAA never hesitated to put its hands in everything, resulting in a wide, if somewhat unsavory, reputation.

By 1999, TAA had become a super-corporation to almost rival that of any, an invisible giant with a large cash flow and unlimited resources. Julian Foss ran it all.

TAA's corporate headquarters was situated in New York, an appropriately large and influential city for a large and influential company.

And in such a city of massive corporate buildings and plazas, TAA had one of the biggest of them all, spanning two city blocks and 43 stories. At the very heart of this machine created expanse lay Julian's office, 25 stories up and nestled in the very center, with no windows and thick soundproof walls. One door was the only entry, directly in front of his desk. Nothing ever went through that door without him ordering it. It was from this totally secure room that Julian reigned supreme over his vast enterprise, directing business and affairs.

On this night, Julian was concentrating on his most important business at hand. Michael Hendrow was approaching his polished mahogany table, and as usual, was all ears for what his partner had to say.

Hendrow was a University graduate who had achieved great success in the often harsh world of Wall Street. Buying and selling stocks was his hobby, his work, and his obsession. By the time he had reached 38, Hendrow was one of the richest men in the country.

He had met Julian during a cruise to Hawaii with his wife. Julian himself had been there for purely business reasons, and the two struck up a friendship almost immediately. Hendrow was fascinated by Julian's ideas and working style, and after returning to the states, bought stock in his company. They worked side by side for many years, until after some time, Hendrow was the only man in Julian's close confidence, entitled to the grandiose schemes and backroom plotting of TAA.

That was why he was here tonight.

Julian did not look up from his papers as Hendrow sat down. They sat in silence for a minute and a half before he stopped shuffling papers and looked up. His dark green eyes studied Hendrow for a second, then returned to his work. When he spoke, it was the cultured yet hard voice of an ambitious self-made man.

"Hello Michael. How are things with you?"

Hendrow smiled easily, sliding comfortably into the role of old friend. "Things are well with me, thank you."

"The wife is well, I expect?"

"Of course, of course. Kendra just had her sixteenth birthday last Tuesday."

"Really?" Julian lowered his eyes to his papers again. "Tell her Uncle Julian gives his best wishes."

"I shall."

Another shorter stretch of silence prevailed. Julian looked up again.

"Here, I want you to read this."

Hendrow took the thick manila folder labeled, "GPSS". He opened it and read of a failed experiment near a mountain in Utah. After a moment, he closed the folder and placed it back on the desk.

"Interesting. It seems man will never stop trying to step over the boundaries nature has set for us."

Julian lifted his lips in a thin imitation of a smile. "The report skips a few details."

"Such as?"

"A portal was successfully created."

Hendrow took a deep breath and sat back. It was too unreal to be truly shocking. "Well. Then why did they shut it down?"

"The first man inserted was lost after the portal collapsed in an unforeseen accident. The government, in one of their larger blunders, didn't realize the portal had actually worked, and put it off as if the volunteer had simply died. The truth is rarely that obliging."

"Yes, well. If the portal was not a total failure, where did the volunteer go?"

Julian opened another large drawer in his desk and pulled out a slightly thinner file. "You have heard, or course, of the Tunnel Thesis."

Working with Julian required at least some grounding in science and, as a college graduate himself, he knew of the Thesis. Hendrow said nothing as the implication of this hit him. Julian opened the file and removed several black and white pictures.

"These are surveillance camera photos that I, _procured_ from some very, ah, reclusive sources," He leaned over the desk. "Take a look."

Hendrow thumbed through the photos, which brought to mind the set of some bad B movie. They predominately featured a steel canyon of a room, with a strange circular gate as its centerpiece. "If Gallern's Thesis was accurate, then where did he emerge?"

"That was a difficult question to answer. But first, I must tell you, my scientists have recreated the portal at our Oregon lab. It was somewhat tricky, but the results have come through positive. It's quite stable."

"But, how?"

Julian raised his eyebrows slightly. Never an expressive man, this was his equivalent of a shrug. "We cannot say. Our portal was created using steps taken from a more complete report than the watered down government file I gave you. We followed it exactly, and yet achieved greater results. In all honesty, we simply do not know why."

"Incredible!"

"Yes, and you do realize why?"

"The possibilities are endless. If every book and other such things are to be manifest, why, the technology! Imagine if we could enter the universe of say, 'Star Wars' comes to mind. That alone is trillions and trillions of dollars! A quantum leap in every scientific field known to man!"

Julian nodded. "That was my thinking, but what else is there to yield?"

"What?"

"Conquest! Lands, people, _power_! Oil, gold, mineral wealth. A rich man's dream Hendrow. Any man's dream."

Of course. If a man could rule his world of birth, then for Julian another would do just as well. Hendrow had not considered these discoveries in such a light.

"Conquest? But many of these worlds are technologically much more advanced than we are. Certainly, there are some which are not, bu-"

"That doesn't matter. Our portal was created using the same steps as GPSS, and we can only enter whatever world they did. For now."

Hendrow pondered this for a moment. "Still, no matter where we appear, mystery as it is, some advance knowledge is better than no-"

Julian cut him off again. "We know where the portal emerges."

"We do?"

"Yes. Our scientists successfully inserted a probe yesterday, and it brought back sufficient data."

"Why didn't GPSS use a probe as we did?"

"They had no way of transmitting or receiving signals through the portal. Ours is much more stable, and functions like an open door instead of a mirror."

Once more reached into his desk and pulled out not a file, but a book. "We go here."

FINAL FANTASY VIII

OFFICIAL STRATEGY GUIDE

-

Selphie stared at the rather disreputable looking man in front of her for several seconds, during which neither of them said a thing. Then she tentatively stepped forward.

"Umm, why do you ask?"

Scott fumbled over several sentences at once, unsure how to explain his situation.

Selphie stared at him. "Sir, are you okay? Maybe you just had too much to drink, why don't you-"

Scott shook his head wildly. "No! I'm not crazy I need to talk to," He desperately wracked his memory. "'Squall'. He can help me, he's your leader or something, right?"

Now she was somewhat suspicious. "What do you know about Squall?"

"I'll tell you if you'll just take me to Squall, please!"

After debating for several seconds, Selphie decided that four SeeDs would be enough to handle whatever threat this man might pose. She turned without looking back and gestured towards the door. "Fine, c'mon."

Squall had no sooner sunk into a chair next to the fire when Selphie burst through the door trailing a grubby man. _This better be good_. He turned to face them without getting up. Irvine leaned against the window with his hand resting on his guns while Quistis looked up from her laptop with surprise. Unknown visitors were often dangerous visitors. The stranger didn't look like he might be inebriated with liquor, but Squall knew it was more obvious on some people. Like Selphie.

Squall decided to broach the question diplomatically. "You.. Wish to speak with us?"

The man hesitated. "Yes. I've been looking for anyone who might be in a position to help me." He smiled a little, but it was weak.

Most of the time people came to the SeeDs with minor issues. When you're a hero, people expected you to get cats out of trees, something that was not in the job description. Behind the man's calm exterior though, Squall could see a growing terror of...What? Whatever it was, this man was close to the edge. Squall just hoped he didn't crack before he explained things to them. As long as this wasn't some lovers quarrel.

The stranger awkwardly lowered himself on slightly trembling legs and seated himself across from Squall. Selphie crossed the room over to sit by Quistis, rather conspicuously not taking her usual position next to Irvine. _I need to talk to her._ Whatever was wrong between her and Irvine could not interfere with their job. The man cleared his throat.

"My name is Scott Keyor and I am... Very far from my home, and I need your help to get back."

Irvine leaned forward. "So why come to us?"

Scott opened his mouth to reply.

And then the wall exploded.


	5. All But One

_  
"I think it was after I reached Garden when it really set in, when I realized where I was. I found myself wishing I had bought the damn game instead of renting it."_

-Scott Keyor, _Worlds Unknown_

Deep beneath the watery depths in the tome of watery Ry'leh, the slumbering horror Cthulhu plagues the Dreamscapes of humanity with unspeakable terrors, as the dread Hounds of Tindalos manifest through the angles and destroy their helpless prey. Shudde M'ell and his Burrowers Beneath glide unknown through the mantle of the Earth and Yog Sothoth lies in his eternal prison since time immemorial, the Gate, the Key, the Keeper.

Or, at least they would be if this was a tale of the Cthulhu Mythos. But perhaps in this strange multiverse of Gallern's Thesis, Kthanid and the Elder Gods do lie in eternal watch from Elysia, and Ithaqua does stalk the wintry wastes. All divided by space, time, and things unknown from ours and other universes.

But are these barriers spoken of by any means impassable? Or could a portal be opened throughout the unimaginable continuum, breaching the guards unseen and untouched, to cross the trackless cosmos to other worlds, other galaxies, and other universes. This has become the case only once, and only here.

-

The Portal glowed a shade of color that Hendrow couldn't quite place, a color that almost seemed to be on the very edge of the spectrum, something not quite clear to human eyes. It was quite disconcerting, and it hurt if one looked at it too long. He supposed that was why Julian and the others wore goggles. He mentally cursed himself for not looking into it before hand.

At that moment a tech whose tag read "Sullivan" ran over across the lead lined floor to hand him a pair of the same dark goggles everyone else had. Hendrow smiled. Thoughtful lad, knew which side his bread was buttered on.

Hendrow turned back to his viewing, now made comfortable by the goggles. The room was the size of an aircraft hanger, although he still couldn't understand why they needed that much space for the portal. It in itself wasn't all that big. You could drive a truck through it, but it wasn't large enough to warrant the extravagantly huge interior. He might ask another tech about it, but he was sure the explanation would be incomprehensible mumbling about spatial physics or something else he knew nothing about. Sometimes he wondered if Julian knew what they were talking about.

He sometimes wondered if _they_ knew what they were talking about.

But technicalities aside, Hendrow had to admit it was impressive. The future of technology was being created right in front of his eyes. He had arrived earlier than required at the facility to ask some questions. He wanted to voice a rather large concern of his. Julian was reading something off a clipboard, and Hendrow judged this as good of a time as any to approach him. Hendrow cleared his throat. Julian didn't look up.

"Ah, Julian. I couldn't help but research this universe we are entering. The guide was very informative, and I can't help feeling we are biting off more than we can chew."

Julian raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"The game details have lent me some knowledge on the more disturbing aspects of the world-"

"Sphereverse."

That brought confusion. "Pardon me?"

"Sphereverse. Our space-time calculations have revealed that all micro-universes are shaped like spheres as far as the relative continuum goes, so we've dubbed them Sphereverses."

"Yes. I see. Anyway, this Sphereverse has _magic_ Julian. Beings called GFs. Certainly some of their technology is archaic but in some instances, like this nation called 'Esthar', it can be far more advanced than ours."

"There won't be problem. This has already been studied, and the results are favorable."

"Oh?"

Julian's face, as always, revealed little. "They won't be able to touch us."

-

Deling is a windy city, and this did nothing but blow the rubble and bits of glass at Squall's face as he was plastered against the door. At least, there had been a door there. Not even a second passed before the SeeD training so rigorously ingrained in him kicked in.

He rolled to his feet, grabbing the unconscious form of Selphie and moving into the hallway, keeping low. Irvine and Quistis were nowhere to be seen, but Scott was crouching in the far corner behind the double beds, apparently dazed.

Squall threw Selphie over his shoulder, turned to Scott and shouted, "Move!"

That seemed to bring Scott out of his stupor, and his eyes focused, quickly taking in the situation. There was a time to fight, and there was a time to run. Running seemed like a good idea right then, so he lifted himself up with an overturned table and had made it halfway to the door when something flew through the gaping hole from outside into the room. His mind's only impression was of some sort wrecking ball, before whatever it was slammed through the opposite wall and into the hallway, throwing Squall and the unconscious form of Selphie with such force that Squall smashed through the plaster and wood wall and Selphie flew completely through a door on the other side and out a back window, falling into the small lot behind of the hotel. Scott was only pushed back by the passing force of the object, and managed to only be knocked over without serious injury.

Untouched by the path of destruction, he crawled along the floor until he reached Squall. It was apparent that Squall wasn't getting up anytime soon. With Irvine and Quistis gone and Selphie somewhere out back, the cavalry was him, and he could hear footsteps pounding up the stairs. For one cowardly moment, he tried to convince himself that it wasn't his fight, and he was tempted find other help himself. But his military training reasserted itself, along with the realization he had little chance of escaping unnoticed. They might take him, but they wouldn't take him easy.

Picking up a solid piece of the shattered wooden door frame, he positioned himself in the corner of the room behind the one of the remaining beds, which was lying on its side. The footsteps grew closer, and he moved his eyes back and forth between what was now the new door in the wall, to looking outside through the completely destroyed wall. He fervently hoped they didn't climb up the front of the building to come in that way. He might be able to hold the door for awhile, but fighting on two fronts would finish him quickly.

The soldiers burst into the room at a run. The man at point saw Scott a half-second too late and the board smashed into his uncovered face, sending blood and not a few teeth splattering on the wall and floor.

As the leader hit the floor the second and third soldiers brought up their guns, shouting to the others in the hall. Scott ducked beneath the line of fire of the one closest to the door and swung the club in a tight arc against the soldiers kneecap, bringing a satisfying snap. The man screamed something as he fell and loosed two wild shots over Scott's shoulder into the ceiling.

Plaster dust and chips from the shots impact flew into the remaining man's eyes, momentarily blinding him. Choking in agony, a quick side sweep to the head brought him down in a crumpled pile. Scott didn't hesitate to bring the club down, slamming on the last conscious man's head. _All in a day's work._

Just as his mind was swept up in victorious exultation, a clank and rattle of something bouncing off the wall announced the one thing he had fervently hoped against. _Grenade._

Everything went white, then red, then black.

-

Selphie woke up. Immediately after doing so, she started to wish she hadn't. Her head felt like it was coming apart and she was sure her right ankle was broken. Good thing they hadn't trimmed the hedges recently, or cut the grass. Sloppiness wasn't something to be admired, but she was feeling very grateful to the minimum wage.

The back porch light wasn't on, it was turned off with all the other lights when whoever had attacked them cut the power. She wasn't sure where her weapons were, they were presumably lost in the explosion. On the whole, this situation sucked, and it most likely wasn't going to get any better. She needed to either find Squall, or find a way to contact Garden. Cid _had_ to be told of this situation.

She had a mission, she had a plan. She also had a concussion. Selphie tried to stand up and promptly fell back down.

Steadying herself on what looked like some misbegotten lawn gnome, she forcibly pushed herself to her feet and stayed slightly hunched over until the pounding stopped. She wasn't sure how serious the head injury was, but she didn't want to fool around with head injuries. She needed a doctor, or at least a good night's sleep, neither of which was available.

There might be a communicator in the hotel, but whoever had just wrecked the building had probably cut all the lines, power or otherwise. The best bet was not the police station, the invaders might be the police. No, her main chance was either access to a toll or private communicator.

She straightened up quickly, a mistake, when footsteps and murmurs could be heard moving up the side of the hotel. Both sides, if her hearing could be trusted after the tremendous blow, or blows, her head had received.

She broke into a jog, but it was too much, so she lowered herself to the damp grass and crawled at what seemed a agonizingly slow pace, but was fast enough to reach to fence ahead of the searchers. At the price of some pain, she vaulted the fence and tumbled into the bushes on the other side. Lights swept the ground as the soldiers carefully checked the back yard.

Still swaying slightly on her feet, Selphie stumbled off into the night.


	6. Outside Avatar

_"After Trabia, my friends became everything. I fought the Sorceress because they fought with me."_

-Selphie Tilmitt

A hand is one of the most significant, elegant, and deadly parts of the body. The hand is responsible for countless killings in history, yet one cannot blame this alive yet non-sentient conglomeration of tissues. The blame is laid to rest not on the hand that performs the deed but the mind behind the hand and the personality that drove it to reap the life of another being. Does the Multiverse itself adhere to this? Planets may explode, people may die of natural causes or of the horrible forces of nature, so do we blame the Multiverse, the hand in this equation? Or is there a force and personality behind the structure that performs the deed?

Regardless of the theological implications, the Universe is still structured, but not unable to be bent. Are the rules bypassed in the joining of dimensions? Anck-Su-Namun and Imhotep were surely not meant to walk the shining streets of Coruscant. Kane and the forces of Nod will not rule Oz. Will Mattimeo this time be slave to Dolza of the Zentraedi? But the path always ends where it is supposed to, and whether Indiana Jones is fighting an Agent of the Matrix or Nazis, the story will finish the same.

Perhaps one day Scott will battle the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man, but in the Multiverse reality sometimes called Final Fantasy 8, the truths are beginning to coalesce, and confrontation will be imminent. This event will be monitored by many beings, some hostile, some not. This is the first clash between dimensions, and even should Scott return victorious from this encounter it is doubtful that it will end so easily. He is a drifter, the first one to drift dimensionally. These Presence's will use him to their means.

One Being in particular has a vested interest in this outcome, and she watches on the fringe of the reality, waiting.

-

Selphie lay hidden behind a dumpster across from the hotel, waiting for her chance to hobble across the opposite street. She had managed to get this far, and she was sure to find a communicator in the city. They would need backup or immediate extraction from the area, since whoever was powerful enough to destroy the hotel without immediate and serious repercussions from the local authorities was bound to be in bed with the government and more likely to be the government itself.

The hotel was being doused by fire trucks, a crowd of gawkers and concerned onlookers leaning over the yellow police tape.

Selphie half walked, half hopped her way down the alley and across the street when the light turned red, earning many stares and a few offers for help. It wasn't good. She couldn't afford that kind of attention.

Holding onto a streetlight for support, she desperately scanned the area for a public com unit. A visible relief flooded over her as she spied one several blocks down.

It seemed to take hours, but she reached the com unit, opening the door and hurrying inside the row of equipped cubicles. Then someone behind her spoke out.

"Selphie?"

"Yeah?" She said, turning towards the voice, realizing too late through a hazy fog of pain that the correct response was not to confirm her identity.

The plainclothes agent drove the shock stick into her stomach. Luckily, her last thought turned out the lights as it left.

_**Your failure to intercede on SeeD Tilmitt's behalf is noted.**_

_You think I care? That sort of direct interference would have gotten me in just as much trouble as doing nothing has._

_**In several precedent cases the Council has ruled in the favor of those who revealed themselves in times of desperate need.**_

_Yeah, well sorry if I didn't take the chance the Council would actually do something right for once._

_**You might want to consider your situation before insulting them so flippantly. This is a time for honesty, not false bravado.**_

_Nothing false about it. Now shut the hell up, or I'll take another bathroom break._


	7. Inherent Instability

_"It seems funny now, but I think the most relief I ever felt was when I saw a TV."_

-Scott Keyor, _Worlds Unknown_

The Television is not an old invention by normal standards, compared to say, the wheel, but it has seen tremendous advances. One of the most recent is cable and satellite TV, more reliable ways of broadcast than the old indirect antenna. But before ATT Broadband and Direct TV, millions and millions of shows were sent winging off into nothing, eternal signals of humanity's broadcasts. What if there was a monitor, an alien force watching these signals, even today? What would an outer being make of daytime soaps or NYPD Blue? Certainly, these shows would describe us in a way we would not want to be described. But outside of this, here is another bit of thought food: If transmissions from other dimensions manifest themselves in our world, surely something from us will affect them.

-

The black haze that filled his mind and thudded in his brain was unlike anything Scott had felt since Tom Ferguson had hit him on the head with a two-by-four in Third Grade. Scott struggled to remember the incident. He hadn't anything better to do, because as far as he could tell he had no control over any part of the body he could not feel. On the playground, a construction crew was putting in a new cafeteria wall. He wasn't a nerd back then and would have hit back if the playground teacher on duty hadn't ran over to stop him. Plus, he had felt his chances of hitting Tommy weren't very high since he saw five Tommy's. They had sent him to the nurse's office and- _Huh?_

Bright light on his eyelids suddenly dispelled the fog but not the pounding. Dimly he could make out shapes standing over him, wavy lines slowly coalescing into a recognizable figure.

"Wake up."

"Trying," He managed to squeeze out.

He opened his eyes all the way until things came back into focus. The face staring down at him was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Really, it sort of looked like-

"…Squall?"

The person in question frowned slightly, as though unsure of his reaction. "Yes."

It all snapped back to him. The experiment, the streets of Deling, the hotel, and the impossibility of it all. Briefing hadn't prepared him for this. But then, what could?

The one thing he was not aware of however, were his surroundings and circumstance. He sat up to discover both and immediately wished he hadn't. Fighting off the sudden attack of nausea, he struggled to his feet from where he had been laying on an extremely cold concrete floor. The fact that it was extremely cold stuck out in his mind quite firmly and not surprisingly considering he was totally naked.

It was fairly obvious that waking up would not be pleasant, but being buck ass naked was going, he felt, a little too far.

Doing his best with what he had, which was nothing, to cover himself, he looked to Squall. "Why, by chance, am I naked?"

Squall was not particularly clothed either, but luckily there was nobody else in the small concrete cell. "Intimidation. Discomfort from the cold," His aquiline eyes scanned the steel door that was apparently the only way out. Besides that, the cell was depressingly bare.

Scott smiled despite the circumstances. "They'll have to try harder than this. So, you're a, what, CD or something right? How do we get out of here?"

Squall's gaze focused on Scott, as if reassessing him. "Who are you?"

"Well, that's a long story."

Squall raised an eyebrow, the first expression of emotion Scott had seen. "I think we have time."

So Scott began the long task of relating all that had transgressed, followed by a short personal history. As he went through the rather long listing, he was slightly piqued by the fact that Squall seemed pointedly undisturbed by this flux of new information. Scott at least wanted his audience to be a _little_ impressed that he had survived interdimensional travel. But then, kill an insane sorceress from the future, and life would probably seem a little less unbelievable. Tactfully, he left out the part of them being featured in a game from his world, something he felt would be too hard to swallow in light of everything else that had to go down, not to mention his experience with it had been brief, and his memory incomplete.

After he had finished, Squall looked up from his contemplation of the floor and then spoke the question that had been weighing heavily on Scott's mind. "How do we get you back?"

Scott shook his head. "I was hoping you could tell me."

Squall shifted to a more comfortable position. As he saw it, whether or not this man was telling the truth was unimportant. There were more immediate things to deal with. "I think we have been captured by the Galbadian government. You were taken along with us, maybe by mistake."

"So they probably think I'm a C-thing too, huh?"

"Yes. SeeD."

"Oh. Do you know how to get out of here?"

"We wait."

-

Meanwhile, a different sort of problem was occurring in a different sort of cell. Irvine and the two girls had also been rudely thrown into a similar compartment.

"Irvine, put the mouse back in the house!" Selphie screeched, the echoes reverberating off the dim walls and rattling Irvine's teeth. She had awoken with no trace of her leg wound, which would have cheered her but for the fact that she had been bagged with the oldest trick in the book. She couldn't tell the others. She felt like she had let them down.

Irvine himself was not in the most comfortable of situations, and he wasn't going to take any crap.

"I _can't_ put the mouse in the house, because there is no _house_!"

"Well, stop that then!"

"I can't help it! It's natural!"

Selphie sputtered over that one, and after several false starts finally settled on, "Well, then you get that corner!"

"Fine."

He picked himself up to move over into the far corner when a look of poorly disguised cunning came into his eyes.

"You know, if you want to make the problem go away, at least for awhile..."

Selphie desperately looked around for something to throw, but Quistis was too heavy and the concrete looked rather solid.

Quistis stepped in. "Look, stop this. We're SeeD. What should our first move be?"

Selphie started to raise her hand then caught herself. "To escape."

"And then?"

Irvine fielded that one. "To find our Commander."

"Right. Let's start."

The three moved around the room, trying to keep their backs to one another (except Irvine, who wasn't really trying) and find a way out, the hinges on the door being the most likely prospect. After a through inspection by Irvine, Quistis and Selphie in turn, it was apparent the hinges were not a viable option.

"Stuck like titanium glue," Irvine grunted, trying to bend the pins. "This door isn't going anywhere."

Quistis looked at him.

"Stuck like what?"

"Like titanium glue."

"There's no such thing."

Irvine shrugged, sliding down the wall. "Well, if there was it would be stuck like this."

Selphie sank into a corner, her head in her arms. Quistis raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

Selphie's voice came out muffled. "Sleeping."

Quistis sighed, doing likewise. There was nothing else for it until their captors came for them.

-

Zell was, in the short of it, not happy. Squall's team was late, and there had been no reports from Galbadia. His frenetic energy surging through his veins, he violently paced his room. His requests to go to check on the team's status had so far been denied by the Garden heads and Cid himself. Denied. Him! Defeated Ultimecia and everything. Sandbagged.

But he wasn't going to take it without a fight. No, he _would_ have permission. He would request every day until they gave him the okay to help his friends.

A buzz from the door intercom, or doorcom as they were more commonly known on campus, startled him from his angry reverie.

Turning to the door, he keyed the doorcom. "Yeah?"

"Zell, it's me. Rinoa."

"Oh, right." He fumbled with the pad. The door slid open with a slight hiss, revealing Rinoa in a blue jacket with a hood. She quickly ducked into his room as the door closed.

Zell raised an eyebrow at her dark clothing. "Hey, uh, what's with the covert ops stuff?"

"Curfew is on," She said as she put down her hood. "Remember?"

In fact, the clock had been the last thing on his mind, and he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, no. I mean, yes, but I wasn't remembering. No, I was. Remembering."

"Um, okay. We need to talk."

"What about?"

Rinoa sighed, brushing back her hair from where it had been hanging in her eyes. "The mission. Squall and the others still haven't come back, and.." She bit her lower lip, worry coming over her face.

Normally Zell would have told you that worry wasn't in Rinoa's vocabulary. But since the days of the battles and Ultimecia, everyone had changed, none more so than Squall and Rinoa. Their relationship was much discussed in Garden. And in the tabloids, much to Squall's dismay and Rinoa's delight. Many people thought it wouldn't last long and that they didn't have enough in common, but Zell thought they had more than it appeared. Sometimes Rinoa could have very Squall-like attributes. In his dim subconscious Zell suspected the 'normal' Rinoa was as much a mask as the 'normal' Squall.

Such things were, for the time being, far from his thoughts. "Yeah, I know. This just really..._really_.." He struggled for a suitable word. "_SUCKS!_"

"That's not the way I would have put it," She said wryly. "But you have a point. Zell, why can't we go find them?"

"I _told_ you Rinoa, the Headmaster won't, 'delegate a team from other critical assignments' to go to Deling. The Garden is really busy right now and I'm on hold for a possible call. We'll just have to wait, at least until we know something is wrong."

He resumed his ferocious pacing. Rinoa sat on the edge of his bed, eyes following him back and forth.

"Yes, but what about just one of us? I know you're on hold, but-"

He vehemently shook his head, as if by doing so he could shake the dilemma free of his brain.

"No, I already tried. Everything. Again and _again_!" He let loose an explosive sigh, clenching his gloved hands. "It's just no good. If I wasn't a SeeD, I-"

He broke off, as though afraid to talk of not being a SeeD. He stopped abusing the carpet long enough to walk over to the window and glare moodily out into the cloud filled horizon. The Garden was resting in its usual place at Balamb, and a storm several miles out to sea cast eerie flashes that soon dissolved in the flickering twilight.

Rinoa stood up and walked to his side, looking at his face.

"You'd what, Zell?"

He faced her, as readable as always. "I would go and do it anyway."

-

Even the air seemed different to Hendrow, cleaner somehow. And a slight hint of tang, something else. _Magic._ He thought to himself, if such a thing could taint the air.

The expedition had emerged onto a grassy plain, a full moon high in the sky. Hendrow had brought the Strategy Guide, but the game map was hardly an accurate one, lacking any real information other than names and vague locations. Perhaps if they could find one of these, 'Draw Points'. He could almost taste that new power, a high achieved by invincible new technology.

_So this,_ He thought. _This is what it must have felt like to set the first foot on the moon._

One small step for greed, one giant leap for power.

Julian was too efficient for standing around. Workers and guards moved into position, erecting shelters and securing the perimeter. Hendrow nervously flipped to the Bestiary section of the Guide. Some of these creatures would be most difficult to face until the rest of the men were brought through the portal. Especially without the larger weaponry. He had been assured the professional soldiers could hold off long enough to get back in the portal, but just in case he ordered his and Julian's shelter to be built closest to the opening, still glowing in the moonlight.

This area of the entrance was to be the base of a huge operation, and a concrete bunker-compound would be under construction first thing in the morning. No expense was spared, and it was turning into a more than multi-million dollar project. Not to mention the fact that the private army Julian was going to hire had only been partially filled out. But if there was one thing Julian Foss had, it was money.

Hendrow gave a slight smile at the thought of the glory that awaited them.

-

The first sign of their captors came at first light, or what Scott judged to be first light. A metallic clang brought him out of his half sleep, dozing on the rough floor. A man walked in, dressed in a tight black T-shirt and slacks of the same color. In the dim light he seemed to be only a floating head.

"Up."

Scott sat defiant, unmoving. The man barked a short laugh.

"You might as well move. Your friend isn't here to back you."

With a quick glance, Scott saw this was true. Squall had disappeared while he had slept. He inwardly cursed his lack of observance. Still, he wasn't going to move until the man did. After a couple seconds of silence, the man in black grudgingly tossed him a pair of boxers. Scott quickly put them on and decided there wasn't anything else to gain in defiance. He stood up in what he hoped was a firm posture and faced his jailer. He knew they had moved Squall and himself separately so there was less chance for resistance. Being half naked with no weapons, he was not in a position to resist.

"This way."

The jailer led him down a twisted hallway, complete with damp steps and slippery ramps. Judging by the smell they were either in or by some sewers. The idea that the sewers were making the floor slick was not a pleasant thought.

Dim lights showed the way, until they arrived at another blank door, unmarked and anonymous as the rest. The jailer reached up and hit a switch planted in the wall that Scott hadn't noticed.

The room revealed was like the rest, except auditorium size and lined with built in seats. The front row was occupied by the others, all in the same shorts. Strangely, he noticed the girls didn't have any tops on. Then again, he glanced at the guards, maybe not so strange. Either way, they were dealing with soldiers who had little in discipline or courtesy. Already embarrassed enough, he fought his body's natural response, trying to concentrate on the danger of the situation. Scott was seated next to Squall and his hands were bound like the others.

The jailer walked up to the podium, surprising Scott, who hadn't thought he was in charge. The man looked at them coldly before clearing his throat.

"You have the honor of the hospitality of the Galbadian government. Perhaps permanently."

He paused here, leafing through some papers. Scott figured they were blank. The jailer looked up again, scanning their faces for any reaction to his words.

"We of course have extensive information on all of you. Squall Leonhart, Selphie Tilmitt, and so on. Except for.." He paused as if questioning the wisdom of revealing that he didn't know something.

"Him," He pointed at Scott. "You refer to him as 'Scott'. Who is he?"

Quistis was the first to speak. "Why are you doing this?" She questioned him, refusing to let her nakedness demoralize her.

The jailer ignored her, eyes still searching. "A specialist of some kind, obviously SeeD. An assassin? No, Mr. Kinneas is here. Some sort of spy? Perhaps a martial artist. Zell Dincht is still at your Garden."

None spoke. Scott watched Squall carefully. It was hard to judge a person by a character you had only a passing familiarity with. Would he reveal anything? Perhaps the game had been wildly inaccurate. Whatever happened, this could only get worse.

The jailer waited for a minute, then gave a smile that was more of a grimace on his hard face. "Well then. Maybe we can fire it out of you."

Nobody made any sound, but that was enough to make Scott uneasy. When the man in black turned to give orders, he leaned over to Squall who was sitting next to him.

"They're gonna set me on fire?"

Squall's grave eyes focused on him. "A bit more controlled. Magic."

Scott wondered how long he could hold under torture. He had been trained for it, and now it appeared it would be time to see if all that training was up to the hype.


	8. Advent Destiny

_"I can remember when Scott first showed up, it took awhile to get used to him. There was just something about him, like you knew he was from out of town. Funny, considering who he turned out to be."_

-Quistis Trepe, _What's Hyne Got To Do With It?_

One can always get what one wants, and everything has its price. The golden rule of greed. Whether it be power or mere object, the seduction of ownership is a lure for everyone. Some may resist it, others indulge openly or privately in small ways. To a few, it is a way of life. Men like Julian Foss. This comforting platitude of the self-absorbed and wealthy has little truth in the real working world, or Multiverse. So if you cannot buy it, cannot steal it, then you must take it. And with the Thesis, there is much for the taking.

-

There was really no way around it.

The scenery did nothing to distract him. He could only stare at the concrete surroundings for so long until his brain wandered back to the forthcoming torture. These thoughts came unbidden, seeping into his brain against his will and his good sense. The bonds that held him fast in this public torture chamber were unbreakable. No way out.

The jailer returned from a room behind the stage, emerging from a door Scott couldn't see. He carried with him a black case, uniform and unremarkable. Scott fought back a shiver.

From the rather large case he drew a small instrument Scott could not identify. It was akin to a syringe, a shape that made Scott's skin crawl. Something about needles made his mind numb.

The jailer walked down the stairs until he was standing in front of Scott, glaring at him. Guilelessly, Scott stared back, calm on the surface only. He braced himself.

"This is your last chance," the jailer said softly. "Who are you, and why are you here with the others?"

The fear was real now, but Scott refused to give in. He said nothing, clenching his fists tightly.

The jailer only smiled. He reached for Scott's arm, and jabbed the needle-like point on the device into it. Scott gritted back a gasp at the pain.

"Stop!" Selphie shouted. "Leave him alone! He just showed up at the hotel, we don't know who he is-"

One of the guards walked up and backhanded her, silencing her cry. Irvine gritted back a swear, shooting the man a glare of hatred.

The jailer didn't spare it a glance. He looked at Scott, finger on some sort of trigger, magic ready at his word.

"I would say 'last chance', but since I already did-" The jailer shrugged, hit the switch, and shot a fire spell into Scott's bloodstream.

A strange roaring filled his head. Scott's first impression was that it wasn't all that bad Then it occurred to him that it really _wasn't_ bad. Aside from the noise in his head and the stabbing pain from the needle, it really didn't hurt at all.

He jerked, shaking off the darkness that had threatened to overtake his vision, to find the room surprisingly silent. Lying in a charred crater of burnt blood, his face contorted in agony, the jailer was dead. Scott stared at the body uncomprehendingly.

Scott may have been dumfounded into inaction, but Squall wasn't. In an instant he had used his bare feet to grab the gun from the jailer's flaming holster, burning his toes in the process. Foolishly, their captors had opted to tie their hands in front of them, a stroke of luck.

Squall threw himself over the backs of the first row of chairs, gun firing a precise two shots. One of the six guards fell over, clutching a stomach wound. The second shot hit the other guard on his right in a textbook perfect headshot, the powerful .45 blowing an apple sized exit wound in the back of the man's head, crashing him to the ground.

The other SeeD scattered, hobbling as best as possible to cover while Squall took down another guard with his pistol, the remaining three struggling to get their guns up and fire, frantically thumbing the safeties. Their reaction time was abysmal, and they were obviously poorly trained.

Irvine reached the other two downed guards in seconds, using his bound hands to grab an assault rifle and pistol. Unable to fire the assault gun single handed, he fired the pistol, forcing the men at the back to take cover and dove behind the podium where Selphie was crouched. Quistis had ducked and crawled over to the third killed guard, weapon laying in the open just beyond her reach.

By now the remaining guards had taken aim and were unloading at whim, chipping concrete and shredding the thinly padded seats.

Selphie sent a burst of fire from the podium, suppressing the guards behind the last seat row and giving Quistis enough time to snag the other rifle.

The firing stopped at what had become a standstill, the SeeDs at the front of the auditorium and on the stage, the last guards ducked behind the final row of seats before the open aisle space to the exit. The SeeDs could only advance slowly as they worked to free themselves fully, while the guards couldn't hope to make the exit without getting cut down in the open space, unprotected from the firing position of the podium.

Scott had taken cover in front of the first row of seats, just below the podium where Selphie and Irvine were hidden. Weaponless, he crawled around the perimeter until he reached Quistis, who handed him the recovered pistol from the dead guard. While the situation was deadly, it was also embarrassing. Scott couldn't seem to find a place to put his eyes. Quistis' rather ample assets were an unwelcome distraction from the loaded guns pointing his way. Perhaps the guards hadn't been as dumb as he had suspected.

A movement at the corner of his eye brought his head snapping around. Squall had freed himself from his bonds and was crawling along the aisles in a zigzag fashion, keeping just out of sight. Afraid covering fire would only draw attention towards him, Scott decided to meet Squall halfway.

"Hey," He whispered, indicating Quistis. She turned to him. He held out his hands, making it understood he wanted to be untied. Quickly, she reached over and carefully undid the knot, then he did the same for her.

The concrete grated on his stomach as he wriggled along the floor. Fortunately, the seats had solid bottoms rather than separate legs, give the guards no clean line of fire along the ground. He reached Squall in less than ten seconds. Face to face on the floor, Scott opened his mouth to ascertain the plan, when something unexpected happened.

Selphie and Irvine, cut off from the rest of the group and unable to discuss or receive a working plan, decided to let loose with a blistering round of fire, jumping off the stage and behind the first row of seats. Without thinking, Scott and Squall made use of the distraction. Jumping up, they ran in opposite directions down the aisle. The sudden hail of bullets impacted on the far wall and seat tops, and the guards had to move to the sides. The guard on the farthest left made a critical mistake when he moved a few feet too far, allowing Quistis to drop him with a burst.

Two left. Scott thought.

One of the guards had the presence of mind the stick his gun over the seats, firing blindly. Scott had to duck back into safety lest he be hit. Squall, however, was by now on the other end of the row and out of the rightmost remaining guards view. Quistis was edging forward for a better shot. Scott couldn't see Irvine and Selphie but he guessed they were moving up the aisles as Squall had before.

Scott saw at the last moment what Squall was going to do. If he had not, the outcome might have been much different.

Squall emerged over last row of seats, giving him a final shot on the two guards. The guard nearest Scott saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, and raised his weapon.

Scott reacted by leaping to his feet, desperately exposing himself to the line of fire and raising his pistol, the shot echoing in his ears as everything seemed to slow down. The shell ejected from the gun lazily, floating in its decaying trajectory to bounce on the floor. He could almost see the bullet before it impacted just under the guards right elbow, into the ribs. The bullet was just smashing through the man's organs when a burst fired by Quistis all but vaporized his head, scraps dispersing in a bloody balloon.

The lifeless remains flew with the force of multiple impact until its flight was arrested by the wall, spattering warm liquids in a fan-like pattern.

Scott saw none of this. He had already swung right, bringing up his .45 to dispose of the final guard. He need not have bothered. The last guard was dead, killed by Squall. Scott's arms dropped in temporary relief as the adrenaline rush thinned itself out of his bloodstream.

Selphie and Irvine were the first to move, running up from the back. Selphie had tied one of the dead guard's shirts around herself in a attempt at modesty. Quistis was busying herself doing likewise. Scott approved. Distractions under fire could quickly prove fatal. Squall picked himself off the floor and walked over to where Scott and Irvine stood. He halted, calm eyes surveying the carnage.

"So," Irvine said, scratching his head. "Which way out?"

Scott marveled at their resilience as he slumped to the floor, head still aching.

"We need to recover our equipment," Squall spoke while turning to the door. "This complex follows the construction of the old fallout shelters from the Sorceress War. There must be an exit somewhere in the city."

Irvine smiled broadly. "Well then. We'll be back in time for dinner." He turned to Scott, raising an eyebrow. "You okay?"

Scott just shook his head, unable or unwilling to answer.

Selphie pushed past Irvine, heading towards Squall who was moving for the door. "Where do we go? All my things are back at the hotel! Do you think our weapons are still there?"

He opened steel door without answering, and the rest followed hurriedly, anxious to exit before their escape was compromised. The SeeDs hadn't seen any cameras, but that didn't mean they weren't there.

The same damp hallways stretched out before them, taking almost random turns it seemed. Rusty or broken doors revealed long empty rooms, built for some unknown purpose, some filled with machines no longer working.

Of all the things most suited for silent walking, Scott would have pegged bare feet as one of the best. Instead he unhappily remembered that if not careful, bare skin made a loud slapping sound against the concrete. Concentrating on his footing and trying to keep up with Squall and the other SeeDs, he had only a part of his thoughts to puzzle out the sudden and violent death of the jailer.

Why? There seemed no reason for the backlash of magic. Of course, he was in no way proficient in the art himself, for all he knew there might be a perfectly reasonable explanation. The SeeDs seemed to be more involved with escaping than analysis, so the questions would have to wait.

All he had wanted to do was go home. Back to his dimension. Who would have known that in the hours since his arrival he would be attacked, brought in for torture, and then inadvertently trigger an unplanned escape? There was nothing left but to follow through, at least until they could find their way out from under the shadow of Deling.

-

Hendrow nervously watched the sun dawn, revealing with greater detail the landscape that had been darkened from vision by the previous night. There still wasn't much to see. The plain was empty, though now lit. It seemed to him that the air was thicker, heavier some how. Perhaps they had emerged in a lowly populated area, the lack of pollution leaving the air oxygen rich.

By mid afternoon Julian's work crews had settled into digging the appropriate holes and pouring in the first foundations of concrete. Hendrow routinely patrolled the perimeter, keeping tabs on progress and penalizing slackers. There weren't many slackers to be penalized. Typical as the field seemed, they couldn't mistake the feeling of being far away from home. The night before none of the stars had formed constellations that made any patterns familiar to the human eye. The need to be behind walls was strong, and the men worked harder for it.

Julian was in his tent, waiting for the temporary command station to be completed. Hendrow wasn't sure what he was doing, but it was undoubtedly vital, and Hendrow left him to his concentration.

A reconnaissance team of twenty men was being prepared to venture beyond the area of arrival. Assuming the sun rose and set in the same directions as the one of Earth did, their position was calculated, but the map in the guide next to the Toyota ad (an ad that was strangely comforting) was not precise enough to be of any use. To their immediate north less than a mile was a beach, and the south was the same. To the west the land trailed off into a point in the ocean, leading the expedition to believe they were on some sort of peninsula. To the east the land appeared to stop and cut off into a channel across which were two islands, one larger, one small, and what Hendrow thought was the mainland, the only body that didn't appear to terminate in water. Hendrow had studied the map all morning in between his patrolling and believed he knew where they were.

Now it was only a matter of waiting until the rest of the men and equipment came.

-

Rinoa faced the window of her room, crossed arms hugging herself tightly, as if afraid to let go lest her heart fall out in its agony. So many days without word. By now Garden was demanding that Galbadia give information on the SeeD delegation. Galbadia was claiming they had vanished without their knowledge. Neither side was giving in. And Squall was still gone.

_Where are you? _

It hadn't been so bad before, when it had only been a few days. Now every day was a battle not to forcibly find her Knight. His absence was a deepening hole in her mind. She fully understood what they meant with the saying, "Like a Sorceress and her Knight", a common expression for two inseparable things or people. It just was not meant to be. What then, must it have been like for Cid and Edea, apart all those years?

She closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind to find his presence, a futile gesture she knew, having tried so many times before. With all her power she could not see to Galbadia, across many miles of water and land. And even if she could, Galbadia was so very large. One body and essence so very small amongst all of it, despite their link.

She felt the guardian forces present inside her mind, Siren, Ifrit and the Brothers. In her Sight they appeared as dim lights in her essence, faintly glowing.

Then, one was different.

She gasped as her mind was pulled into Ifrit, who became to her more than just the Guardian force, but the Being behind it. She had barely time to understand, _'Let me help you.'_, before her mind was shot into the sky, expanded. It enveloped the world, Ifrit guiding it, giving it previously unknown reach and clarity.

She flew over Esthar, Trabia, and the Shumi Village at the speed of light, seeing, tasting, smelling sights, sounds, things almost faster than her brain could translate them, absorbing so much information it ceased to be coherent.

Her mind rebelled frantically, essence kicking and struggling in an unthinking fear over her lack of control, her fragile link with her body wavering and thinning.

Then she was there, Galbadia. It was but the work of a moment to find him, burning bright under Deling.

_Squall! _

He halted, stopping the rest of the team behind him, eyes darting.

_Rinoa? _

Their minds touched for an instant, then she was hurled back into her physical self, collapsing on the floor. She lay there, gasping and covered in a cold sweat. Sitting up, she ran a shaky hand through her hair, grasping for composure.

What was this?

-

_Dimensional fabric wavered, tore slightly, then compacted and rebound back into its original form. The tightening Knot woven into the continuum was continually coalescing around a single essence, one man. _

_The dimension destabilized further, bending reality, gravity, time. Hyne watched in something akin to awe, closer to terror. She held the dimensional fabric together until the vibration stopped. Something like this could destroy everything she had worked so hard to create. Never had she imagined that anything below the level of her deity could pierce the walls she and her kind had built so long ago to preserve the boundaries for peace and sanity. Some things should never collide. The fools responsible for this were not her jurisdiction, but she wondered at the laxity of the God who had allowed this to come about. If all worked properly, such a Knot would eventually be rejected. Hyne settled back to watch, and secretly hoped her untested defenses were enough to fix a Knot of this magnitude._


	9. Transit Factor

"_I think love is something you have, but don't always know it. Look at Squall. Why else would you jump out of a space station?_"

-Irvine Kinneas, _The SeeD and the Sorceress_

Ender's Game. A novel that tells the tale of a boy torn from everything he knows to a place strange, terrifying, and outside of all experience. Is this so different from anyone's life? Thrown from circumstance to circumstance, events wild and beyond control. Maybe we end where we want, maybe not. Maybe the story ends somewhere unknown, but just as good or even better than the destination you had set for yourself. Scott is a man for whom fate has a plan. Groping for composure or a handle on this world, he cannot know what is to come. Can we ever really?

-

Zell contained his exuberance long enough to get out of the Headmasters office, long enough to get to the dormitories, but not long enough to get into his room. Three feet away from his door, the joy had to be spread.

"BOOOOOOOOOOYAAAAAAAAA!"

The victorious cry reverberated up and down the halls, startling more than one student and earning him several reproachful stares. Shrugging these off, he gleefully keyed open his door and practically skipped over to his dresser.

The cause for his obvious euphoria was a set of orders, crumpled and shoved into his left pocket. These orders came from Cid, conceding the need for an investigation and giving Zell permission to take one other inactive SeeD operative along if necessary. Packing in a hurried frenzy, he finished quickly and sped down the hall toward the library, where he knew Rinoa would be studying for one test or the other. The SeeD exams were grueling, and requesting a library pass could give a student much needed time to cram.

Zell wasn't very observant even when he wasn't in a rush, so of course things only worsened when he was. He had just entered the library at a dead run when he ran right into the library girl, Amber. The crash was spectacular, and books flew in arcing patterns as they both fell to the floor. Getting up, Zell immediately began scrambling about on his hands and knees, grabbing the fallen books and stacking them in a lopsided pile. Amber was still picking herself up from the floor when he finished and, giving out a quick apology, ran past her into the reading area.

He might not have been so hasty, but Amber was always, well, _weird_ around him.

Rinoa was as he had predicted, hunched over a massive tome of Centra history. Smiling in anticipation, Zell ran over to her side.

"Hey Rinoa!"

She looked up from her studies. He could tell she hadn't really been working, her eyes far away. He grinned, certain he had the news that would bring those eyes back to life.

"I was up in Cid's office today, and he gave me permission to go check on Galbadia team, and," He drew out the punchline. "I can take one other SeeD operative with me!"

Excitement became confusion, became an instant vaporization of euphoria when he saw the look on her face and realized what he had forgotten all along.

"I'm not a SeeD yet Zell."

She hadn't needed to say it, but there it was. Zell's personality came through and impossible hope welled.

"I'll go to the headmaster, I'll ask him-"

She cut him off with a sad shake of her head.

"I already did Zell. He asked me to meet him, he said," She bit her lip, understanding but not wanting to. "That with my power.. I'm a Sorceress, Zell. Galbadia wouldn't want me there, they might panic, they might..." _Hurt Squall_.

Zell slumped in a nearby chair. His eyes met her.

"All right," He said. "But I'm not taking anyone else along. I mean, this is pretty important, right?"

"Yes."

The moment turned awkward, them now looking away from each other. With nothing more to say, Zell stood up to leave.

"Zell.."

He turned.

"Be careful." _Bring him back_.

He left, and she sat unmoving for awhile, wishing success, fearing what might happen, frustrated she couldn't help. Or was there a way?

Since the night before she hadn't touched or used her GFs, still uncertain, not knowing what had happened. But there was a time for everything.

She went to her room, being sure to lock the door behind her. Setting her books down on her desk, she pulled out the chair and dragged it over to face the window.

Closing her eyes, she once more reached out with her mind, flexing her power, feeling the aura of it pulsing through her. She reached for Ifrit then stopped, hesitating. She moved away and touched Leviathan. She gasped as the same feeling came over her, expanding, ripping away restraints she hadn't known were there, stretching her humanity.

Fighting it, she forced her mind back into the boundaries, this time controlling the GF enough to focus the surge.

A voice.

_I apologize. I did not mean to bend your psyche so._

Rinoa wildly cast about with her thoughts, trying to find the entity invading her mind. She had been positive no one could break into her aura, the power of a Sorceress would be required. Slowly, she realized that the voice was not coming into her mind, but already resided there.

_..Leviathan?_

_Yes, it is I. You reached for me, did you not?_

_But this is.. Why did Ifrit not speak to me? I mean, so.. Fluently._

If a GF could chuckle, then Leviathan did.

_Ifrit is as rash and fiery as his element. His contact is simple. He is sorry for any harm done to your mind, it was not his intent to rush you._

Rinoa hadn't known the GFs were personalities.

_I'm okay, he was helpful in his own way._

_Then let it be known that I can be even more so. Articulate your need to me._

'Articulate your need to me?' GFs were also apparently rather formal. She dredged up three years of speech and etiquette lessons from her childhood as a member of the privileged in Deling.

_I have a need that you assist me in the search for a single essence._

Leviathan laughed again.

_There is no need to conform your speech for me, child. I have no ears and no sensibilities to speak of._

_Help me find Squall._

_Of course child._

This time the trip was not so rough or fast. Given almost total control, Rinoa sped towards Deling only gently guided by Leviathan. When they approached Deling, Leviathan stopped them both, suspended.

_What is it Leviathan?_

Rinoa could sense a sort of unease in Leviathan, making her uncomfortable. If a GF was worried, she should be on guard.

Leviathan gave off a signal the equivalent of a mental frown.

_There is a disturbance here. Ifrit spoke of something like this before, but it did not stop him. But now the... Form of things is torn, knotted. This prevents us from getting closer, for there is nothing there for us to traverse. Strange, I have never encountered anything of this magnitude._

Rinoa felt helpless, unable to reach Squall, who was somehow within that mental block.

_Leviathan, will this affect normal people? People who don't touch this plane?_

_Only if the Knot becomes severe enough to rupture. Otherwise, it is apparent only to us._

Relieved, Rinoa decided on her next best option.

_Lets find Zell._

_I believe he is at the Balamb docks. Shall we go there?_

_Yes._

-

Zell tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for the boat to arrive. This mission was undercover, so no official SeeD transport could be used. His orders gave him just enough credit to use standard civilian travel methods without dipping into his own pocket.

It was a shame, really, since he loved to stand on the deck of the SeeD transports. The way they cut through the water was exhilarating, the sea spray shooting off the bow and glistening on the steel plates-

_Zell._

"Yeah?" Zell turned around, expecting some native to have recognized him. There was no one looking at him, or anyone by him. The other people on the dock were several piers down, fishing or waiting for other boats. Everyone else was just passing by.

Shrugging it off as the wind, he turned back to the ocean.

_Zell!_

"Okay," He glared around, earning him several strange glances from the men on the docks. "Who the hell said that?"

_Zell, it's me, Rinoa!_

"Rinoa?" Zell almost gave himself whiplash scanning for her. "Where are you?"

_I'm not here, I'm talking to you from somewhere else!_

Zell laid his bags down, scratching his head. "Oh really? You know what I think? I think you just snuck down here because you want to see Squall."

He took several steps towards the nearest building, in front of which a pile of stacked barrels made a conspicuous hiding place. "Am I getting warmer?"

_Zell! Stop it and listen to me!_

"AH-HA!" He shouted as he dove for the barrels, knocking them over. To his surprise, Rinoa was not behind them.

One of the fishermen called from down the docks. "You okay there son?"

Zell ignored him, pacing in front of the fallen barrels.

"But how?" He argued, apparently to himself from all the bystanders points of view. A mother shopping for fish was edging her young daughter away from him.

"I'm here, you're in the Garden, this doesn't make any sense!"

_Trust me, I found a way. I'll be following you around for the trip._

"If you can be invisible or whatever, why don't you go find Squall?"

_I can't reach him, there's some sort of field that prevents me._

"Oh great, another Sorceress."

He had been kidding, but became concerned when she didn't answer.

"Rinoa?"

_No. I would know if there was another. I can sense power like mine, GFs and magic. I couldn't not sense another Sorceress._

"Well, okay then."

_I'll keep in touch._

Then she was gone. Zell picked up his things, marveling at this new discovery. He walked back to his place at the front of the pier. Humming to himself, it took him a minute to notice that everyone who had not fled was staring at him, wide-eyed. He frowned.

"What?"

-

Scott rolled over, desperately trying to find comfort where there was none. The cold concrete was not only hard, but the surface was curved and vaguely damp. He gave up, propping himself uncomfortably against the tunnel wall, back curved, legs straight and head bent with the sloping pipe. He and the others were camped in an abandoned piping project, some sort of water system that had never been connected or completed. The tube they lay within was quite large, at least twelve by twelve feet for the interior and forty something feet long. Despite this, the wall still sloped too much for Scott to get a comfortable head rest.

He didn't know what time it was. Even if he had his watch the time might not be accurate. How long were the days here, or nights? How many days to a month or year? The planetary movements here were a mystery to him. Maybe he could ask Squall, or someone more approachable, like Quistis. He vaguely remembered she had been the smart one in the game.

What Scott didn't know was that everyone else was also awake, lost in thought. In the moments before sleep ends and life resumes, things become apparent. The moment passes, but for a time, all they had was what was true in themselves.

Squall was on the far side of the pipe, just as Scott was on the other end. Squall thought of the mission, thought of the possible perpetrators, enemies, and how to escape. A difficult task this was, but his friends had never failed to pull through. _And so I depend on others again._ He thought mostly of Rinoa. What you had becomes painfully clear when it's not there. The sound of her voice, the feel of her hair, all came back in detail. She brought out the best in him. And when they were alone, sometimes he could forget everything the world told him he had to be, and just be what he was. Maybe he could never be like Zell or the others, talking, openly laughing, socially comfortable. But Rinoa gave him room for change. In a very real sense, he was only complete with her. It still scared him. But he was no stranger to fear.

Quistis was next to Scott. In the night she had unconsciously pressed herself against him, seeking warmth in the cavernous space. She had woke before him, and moved away. He seemed a nice guy, but she didn't care for him that way. He might misunderstand. That seemed the way of it now days. No one seemed to catch her eye, not since Squall. It had been hard to admit to herself that she didn't really love him. Doing so destroyed a center part of her concept of who she was, her attraction to Squall had seemed a constant, a romantic pastime. But no longer. Truly alone now, without even the illusion of love to comfort her. Perhaps it didn't have to be so, but.. She had never been good at such things. She knew many people at Garden found her attractive, and she could have any one of the Trepies. But the Trepies held nothing for her but hero worship, and her attractiveness was offset by her authority figure, a strong counter that discouraged both lust and sincere interest. She hadn't had the courage or the real will to accept the offers that had been made.

Selphie and Irvine lay in the middle, not together, but not too far apart. Irvine had considered getting closer, but her recent attitude made him wary of trying. He reflected on their past together, the good and the bad. He still wasn't sure of his feelings towards her, and honest enough to admit to himself he wasn't ready to be serious with her or anyone else. The game still seemed exciting, the image of the ladies man his trademark. Someday he would lose the label, but it seemed to not be the right time now. Still, her distance was worrying. Had he given offense? Irvine agonizingly went over his various doings in the previous months, searching for some discrepancy. She knew his occasional advances towards other women weren't planned to last. Their relationship was difficult to put a tag on. They flirted, spent time together, and were attracted to each other. But they didn't really date, or share any of the other things that came with a relationship. It was all up in air, and maybe that was the problem. If she was tiring of the game and looking for something to hold on to, well.. He would be sorry to say it, but that something wasn't him.

Selphie had her share of problems, the majority of them resting in her dilemma with Irvine. She really liked him, she did, and at first being his casual girl had been the best thing ever. But with time the magic faded. When every girl seems to get the same attention you do, how do you know you're special to him? She knew that he wasn't a bad person, it was just his way. He had even joked about with her, made it clear that he wasn't really serious. But neither was she. She knew he didn't love her, she didn't love him. All they had was a mutual attraction and a friendship, and it just wasn't enough. Wasn't it okay to want more? And there was… Zell. Zell had always been a good friend to her. Sometimes she just liked watching him, the way he smiled, talked, moved. She was on unexplored ground, unsure of where her feelings lay, and unsure of his. She just didn't know about Irvine, or Zell. These thoughts had consumed her for some time. She knew it made her pensive, and noticeably not her usual self. Torn between two uninformed decisions, Selphie shivered on the tunnel floor.

Scott was coping, which is all that can really be said. Unfamiliar faces, names only read in a game. Nothing of his home to hold on to. He didn't know how the jailer died. He hardly knew how he came to be here, a story which only Squall knew, and would have to be repeated for the benefit of the rest. The part about the game, well... He considered telling them, then decided against it. Not only would it raise doubts of his sanity, but it was pointless. There was nothing to be gained in revealing something of that nature even if they would believe it. Rolling over again, he waited.

-

Hendrow smiled in the manner of a wealthy uncle, pleased to see the rest of his family and generous to boot. He strolled the perimeter, noting the excellent progress and giving praise wherever he thought spirits were lagging. Chuckling heartily at the high walls taking shape around him, he walked back to the nearly completed temporary bunker, traversing the tent covered green to the base. The only problem thus far had been the lack of space- the wall had to be extended, there were too many men for the space previously planned. The bridge had been behind schedule, but the men on Earthside had managed to deliver the pylons in little extra time. Now the bridge could be completed in a matter of hours.

After the walls were finished, a massive transportation of manpower would result, and the first forays into civilization could occur.

Hendrow had just reached the stairs to descend into the headquarters when a messenger came up to him from the bottom.

"Mr. Hendrow," The messenger saluted, returned by Hendrow. Julian had insisted a military bearing be applied to the proceedings. "Mr. Foss requests your presence."

Hendrow smiled genially. So, Julian finally wished to talk of further plans. "I'm heading there now."

Waving off the messenger, Hendrow made his way through the main hallway towards the elevator. In the interests of speed and simplicity, the bunker was simply built. There were five floors and a basement. Each floor consisted of a two hallways crossing each other like a plus sign. If looking at a flat blueprint, there were two elevators on each floor, one on either end of what on the blueprint would be the vertical hallway, save the first floor, which had only one elevator and a set of stairs at the other end. The horizontal hallway was a dead end on both sides . All hallways had numerous doors leading off to their respective rooms. While the basic concrete structure was complete, the internal systems such as plumbing, electricity, and all other functions were still under construction, due to be completed within the week. Julian had hundreds of technicians working shifts to complete the bunker on time. Hendrow still marveled at the amount of willing manpower available if one had the money to command it.

Taking the elevator up to the fifth floor, he walked down the corridor and opened the door to Julian's office. The inside might as well have been his office back in New York. Either the whole office had actually been transplanted or every detail had flawlessly been attended to. Closing the door behind him, Hendrow comfortably seated himself across from Julian.

As always, there was a moment of silence while Julian finished with the papers he had been intently studying.

"Good news," Julian said, looking up from his work. "We have made fine progress, Michael."

"Indeed we have. Our workers have been industrious."

"Quite. Tell me Michael, what do you think our next move should be?"

Hendrow wasn't fooled, he had known Julian too long. He knew Julian had already decided what to do, but as a friend had decided to ask for his input.

"I have been," Hendrow pulled out his copy of the strategy guide from his carrying case. "Studying these maps for some time now, and, it's interesting- there seem to be relatively few centers of civilization. You see, this map shows very few cities. Indeed, even the walkthrough doesn't really list that many locations even though it explores the world in depth. These people have been through some fascinating things. I hope to meet them."

Julian gave a slight smile. "You will Michael. But we cannot be sure how this is going to go. We may find that conquest is, ah, not in our interests. However, I believe we won't find it necessary to hold back."

"How so?"

"Well, their 'magic', as it is said, will be quite ineffective for one thing. For another, the game guide and the game itself are not entirely accurate. You see, while this world does manifest itself in ours as Gallern supposed, he did not predict the distortion that would occur. We receive the basic story, perhaps, but we lose quite a lot of it. It is, after all, a game. What about all the times they slept? Went to the bathroom? They have to eat three times a day, Michael, they don't have hit points."

"I see. So, there are more cities than this?"

Julian shrugged. "I imagine we will find what you would expect from countries of their size and technology. It will vary."

"So we will not have a small, easy to control population."

"A population doesn't have to be small to control it, Michael. And this is not an overnight undertaking, nor do we have to aim for world domination. If there is some way to harness this magic as an energy source, or perhaps just for its basic function, we will have more power and money than can be imagined. Let's not take over the world and then find we have nothing to do with it."

"Then this world does not have the mineral wealth we had hoped for?"

"We've made only a few tests, and only in this area," Julian said, pulling several thick folders out of his desk as he did so. "But according to our research division this world is just as mineral rich as ours, and probably just as exploited. We're not dealing with stone age natives, Michael. But let's not give up hope. First we need to take something, any area of land or country. From studies of the game and other sources we have concluded that Galbadia would be our best bet. The country is politically unstable, with no President, ruled only by a weak cabinet of former Congressmen. It is also quite centralized."

"In what way?"

"If you captured Washington D.C the government would not fall, and there would be immediate retaliation. If we capture this, 'Deling', the government will be ours. Simple. The history we have recovered tells us that Galbadia changes governments often, and uprisings and revolts are commonplace. Perfect. If we take over in the most quick and painless manner possible, the way of life for the masses might not even be interrupted at all."

Hendrow felt better about the prospects, but shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the thought of full-scale fighting. Julian might have enough money to hire a small army, but it was still only a small one.

Julian sensed this. "Relax, Michael. Their military is a joke, devastated by raids from Esthar right after the time period when the game ends. As you've read, one of the central military hubs, the Missile Base, was also destroyed. And if we take Deling, we won't even have a fight. Their military will be our military."

"They will follow people from another world?"

"They followed a Sorceress, Michael, I don't believe they'll have any problem with us. To a soldier, a leader is a leader. Besides, we're not going to tell them that. Our spies in Deling are gathering enough information to create identities for us if needed."

"How in the world did you train spies enough to pass as commoners?"

"All of ours spies were given copies of the manual for careful study and classes from our researchers on the local weather and such. We then trained them to fit in the small villages and towns just around this area. They won't know a few bits of common knowledge such as legends or much of history, but if they speak carefully and don't make themselves conspicuous, no one will know better."

Hendrow sat back in his chair, wiping his forehead. "This is all quite amazing. You've really planned this well."

"I have to Michael. And besides, there is no excuse for the intelligent mind that does not think ahead. These events will all take place soon Michael. Within the week, we will be standing in the Deling Senate Hall."

Hendrow savored the thought. Then another one occurred to him. "You speak of magic being harmless. Is the game so inaccurate that this magic is not used offensively as it appears?"

"No Michael, it is. Fire magic will burn a man and Ice will freeze him. But not us, or anyone else who came from Earthside. You see, it has to do with relative physics. Even I don't completely understand it, and I suspect the scientists don't either for all their assurances. While gravity, time and such are all native to our world and identical components in this one, there is no magic. Our bodies are made of mostly the same stuff as those here, but not completely. Our matter is incompatible with magic. It cannot touch us in any way. Of course, the down side to that being we cannot 'junction' GFs or use these offensive spells. To our matter, the very stuff of which we are made, none of it exists."

"Then how do we harness magic and still be able to use it as energy or otherwise back on Earthside?"

Julian sighed, hands rubbing his temples. "That is our problem Michael. We don't know. Our scientists are still studying matter compatibility back in our Earthside lab. This is a new science, so some of the best researchers in the world jumped at the chance to work on it, but it may be years, even decades, before a solution is found."

Julian leaned back once more and shuffled his folders. "But no matter. We must live in the present, and work on the current problems. Please Michael, go talk to Foreman Valesquez. We are behind schedule for our electric wiring, and he needs these blue prints, if you will."

"Of course."

"I'll see you tonight Michael. We brought in a new chef, dinner should be excellent." Julian returned to his papers, contemplating his new empire.


	10. Temporal Deity

_"We were always too busy fighting to worry about getting killed. Well, at least I was. I guess I don't think much when I'm pounding on something."_

-Zell Dincht, _The SeeD and the Sorceress_

What is death? The end, the beginning? The beginning of the end? Death takes many meanings in many cultures, but one thing is certain- once your are dead, it is a permanent state. Perhaps this is where the fear lies. The fear of the unknown, the fear of pain after death. The fear of permanency, a state irreversible. The same fear some get when they consider marriage, that commitment. Unlike marriage, death isn't a choice. But like marriage, death can come before it's time.

-

Scott sloughed wearily through a patch of ankle deep water, having difficulty keeping his balance on the slightly rounded floor. A bit of light filtered through an unseen grate, the only indication of daytime. This faint light did nothing to improve the look of their surroundings. Slime glittered dankly on the ceiling, and the occasional drip kept eyes watchful. Ever wary of the possibility their escape had been discovered, Scott was forced to talk on the move.

"If you want it from the first thing," He began, steadying himself momentarily against the wall. "It starts with a scientist, a man named Frederick Gallern."

-

Zell was crammed into the rear bathroom of the train he had taken from Dollet. His hair was now brown, and he had green contacts inserted in his eyes. His tattoo had been covered with a special makeup, a process that was surprisingly painful. He looked at himself in the mirror as he finished, with the result he looked like he could have been Selphie's brother.

He was glad he wasn't though. That would have made his feelings towards her unacceptable. The invocation of Selphie's name brought a mix of emotions, but mostly a reminder of his mission. To find her.

Grabbing his gray briefcase by the handle, he tugged at the collar of his restricting business suit and stepped out of the rear compartment, making his way back to his seat. He had gone to the bathroom to fix one of his contacts that had somehow slipped out of position and had been digging painfully into his eye. He didn't really like disguises, at least not that much. They appealed to his dramatic side, but they were usually uncomfortable and sometimes pretty lame. This one wasn't all that bad considering.

Zell's grasp on his assumed persona had always been tenuous at best. When he reached his aisle to find someone else in his seat, he was hard pressed to remember he was now a calm businessman.

Rinoa, as a spectator, wondered why they had cast Zell as a professional, fairly rational character.

Zell bit back an angry cry and cleared his throat, searching for some suitably suave way to ask for his seat back. The people in the row turned to look at him.

Fixing his gaze in what he hoped was a steely stare, Zell spoke.

"Excuse me. You're in my seat."

He felt this was a pretty good way to start. What he hadn't counted on was the total lack of response from the other passenger.

Angrily, he dropped his facade and opened his mouth for a blistering denouncement of the strangers parentage, personal hygiene and sexual preferences when his speech, or rather thoughts, were arrested by Rinoa.

_Don't Zell, there's been a change of plans._

Trying to salvage what was left of his dignity, Zell turned up his nose and marched back down towards the bathroom to reach relative privacy. He faced the wall and attempted not to look crazy.

"What?"

_Jump off the train._

"What!"

_I think that was pretty self-explanatory. Twelve miles up there's a switching station. You need to jump before you get there. _

"What!"

_Now you're just repeating yourself. Look, it's not quite noon there yet. I think you'll want to enter under the city while there's still light. _

"Rinoa, this is a nice suit. Why the hell do I want to crawl through the sewers when I can go through the front gate?"

_Because there is a bunch of Galbadia soldiers waiting at the next station to take you in. _

"Son of a bitch! Tell me these things!"

_I just did. Hurry, you better jump soon. _

Running to the caboose, Zell pushed passed a startled steward and promptly threw himself off the train. Of course, this did not allow time for planning or preparation for impact. It took Zell awhile to stop rolling.

"Oh, Hyne... My spine... Hey, that rhymes."

_Okay Zell, that was real subtle. Shove your way past one of the staff and hurl yourself off without a second thought? Your briefcase is about thirty feet to your left. I somehow think you might need your gloves, so stop being paralyzed and get up._

"Man, you're nice. You said I had to hurry!"

_Maybe not so much hurry. You might have been killed!_

"Hey, I-"

_No, forget it. I'm sorry, I should have told you that you didn't have to jump right away. Do you mind if you get dirty now? I mean, your suit is already ruined. _

"Yeah, it is," He grumbled, getting his now battered case and removing the false bottom to reach his gloves. At least she sounded sheepish. "So how do I get to the sewers?"

_The field is interfering even more this close. I can't give you the exact position, but there is a water tower around here somewhere, I think it was never finished, incomplete public works or something. If it's still standing, you should be able to find it. _

"Uh, Rinoa? I'm no plumber, but I know water towers don't connect to the sewers."

_Yeah, but these old water tunnels should take you at least to the city. _

"Are you sure there's a way into them? This sorta counts on the pipes being exposed."

_Trust me. _

"Oh, like I have a choice?"

He didn't get an answer. Trudging up the embankment, he crossed the tracks and saw the tower, half collapsed and almost hidden behind a grove of trees.

Upon reaching the tower, he discovered Rinoa had been correct. The concrete base had cracked and split wide open when it had fallen sometime in the past. The pipes weren't as large as a sewer tunnel. In fact, he would have to go the way on his stomach.

"Rinoa," He shook his head. "This isn't going to work."

_It has too! If you go by foot, they'll catch you in no time, they won't think of these pipes as a way to the city._

"That's because this pipe is impossibly small! It would probably take me more than a day to get to the city by crawling. No way. I'm walking man, enough is enough."

_Zell! If you- oh.. _

"What?" He said, concerned. "What's, 'oh'?"

_It doesn't matter. The soldiers are making their way here in a jeep, the steward must have told them when you bailed. _

"Crap!"

_If you run, I can guide you to avoid them. I think if you make the station, you might be able to get into the sewers._

"Awww, man. I hate sewers."

_Not a pleasant destination, but you've got to. Hurry, cut around that thing of trees, the jeep is only a mile down the tracks. _

"Full speed ahead!"

Zell shot off, sprinting behind the trees and circling until he was hidden. Glancing up at the sky, he noted it was almost noon. It would have been easier to hide at night. The shadows also wouldn't work to his advantage. What he really needed was that jeep.

He began forming a plan in his mind. He didn't share this with Rinoa, she would only tell him not to.

-

Not long now. Hendrow's enthusiasm had at first seemed indefatigable, but he was wearying of watching the men move like machines as they went through the monotonous task of pouring concrete. And more and more concrete. A person could only look at so much concrete before it all became one big gray blur. And frankly, there wasn't anything else to do.

Hendrow was rescued by a summons from Julian. He wondered why. He didn't have bad news to report, or for that matter, good news. The final tasks were being completed by workers in hard hats with cement trucks and sluices. The planning phase was long over.

Hendrow was also tired. This shouldn't have been a problem as all executive officers had a good ten hours of sleep time allotted. Despite this, it was difficult to put that time to good use. Rolling, tossing, turning, sleeping pills and soothing songs. He wondered if it was the lack of normal sounds. A car passing on the freeway, horns in the distance, the ever present humming of machinery everywhere, that squeal emitted by electronics, just a notch above human hearing. He had heard of things like this, campers from the city unable to sleep without the ambiance. Yet, it seemed to him to be more than just the absence of the ringing in his ears present in high tech society. Something deeper, in the psyche. Something that constantly reminded, you are not at home. You do not belong here. An alien God whispering in his ear.

Nonsense of course, Julian would never hold with it. Hendrow smiled at his own foolishness as his confidence returned. Julian knew what to do, he always did. Alien gods indeed. Preposterous.

-

_Hyne struggled to close a tear, no sooner finishing before another opened. This disturbance was tiring her, she had never been so close to her limits. Still seeking the impossible, she grasped the mind of another Outsider, trying to bend it to her will. She could not, her power unable to maintain a hold, grip slipping free, only briefly touching him. _

_GO HOME! She shouted, throwing the message to the cosmos. All around the world, people left their jobs early, children skipped school to run back to their houses. The Outsiders rode this mental blast with only slight consequences, a few frowning, even rethinking their decisions about coming to this new world, receiving unvoiced doubts. But that was all. _

_Frustrated, Hyne turned back to her constant struggle. _

-

"So," Scott let out a breath. "That's the end."

There was a silence as the group digested the information. It had taken over an hour for the telling. Scott had given them the uncut version, rather than the shortened tale he had related to Squall in the cell. Again however, he had omitted his knowledge, however slight, of the video game.

Quistis was skeptical. There wasn't really any reason to doubt his story, but some things just didn't fit.

"I've read some similar theories by Dr. Odine and others, but if you're from another universe," She questioned. "Then how did you know who we were?"

Shafted. Scott hunted for a suitable lie to tell.

"Well, you're pretty famous, and I saw you guys in a, uh, Deling City newspaper. You know, an article."

Quistis raised an eyebrow. "What was it called?"

"I forget." _Lame, lame, lame!_

"How co-" She was interrupted by Selphie.

"Quistis, leave him alone! He's telling the truth, it makes sense."

Quistis was exasperated by her apparently instant acceptance of Scott's ludicrous tale.

"Why Selphie? Where's the proof?"

Selphie turned and looked Scott in the eyes, hands on her hips. "Okay. Who is the main male oh-so-hot character in Balamb House?"

"What?"

Selphie turned triumphant to Quistis. "See!"

"He might just not watch the show Selphie."

"Everyone watches Balamb House Quisty!"

"Not knowing the name of a show character is not substantial proof o-"

She was cut off again by Squall's voice this time, echoing up from his position halfway down a ladder to a lower tunnel.

"It doesn't matter," He said, reaching the bottom. "We need to pick up the pace. Garden might have even sent another party to look for us."

Irvine lowered himself after Squall, rearranging his hat when his feet were back on the ground. When Selphie lowered herself next to him, he considered patting her ass, but decided it wasn't really the time to raise that kind of racket. He looked at Squall, raising an eyebrow. "You mean Rinoa or Zell?"

Squall didn't answer, pensive. He may not have replied, but he had heard. _Rinoa._ He missed her, had even thought he heard her voice. But he didn't want her here, not in this. Luckily, he knew Cid would never allow a non-SeeD to act as an operative.

Realizing he was expected to say something, Squall shrugged slightly. "Maybe. Whoever they send, we need to find them first."

He motioned to Quistis. "You remember these sewers?"

Quistis shook her head. "No. Not this part, we were never here. But if we can get to the area below the downtown, I can get my bearings."

"Galbadian presence will be too high. We must get past the walls. We can be sure they are already looking for us."

Scott only barely followed this exchange. He was straining his hearing. He could have sworn he had heard something- There. That echo almost like...

"Shhh!"

The others looked at him in surprise as he gestured with one hand, silencing them. Irvine drew his gun, chambering several rounds he had scavenged. The clink of the ammo was deafening in the sudden quiet.

"What is it?" Irvine asked, lowering his voice.

Scott stood perfectly still, stretching his perception.

"I don't know. Kind of from above, almost.. Sounded like-"

Gunfire burst from the far end of the tunnel. Selphie screamed as bullets whizzed past her head, turning concrete into choking dust, ricochets making the close quarters into a fatal trap.

Irvine returned fire, scattering the soldiers and giving the group a small reprieve. He made it out to be about half a dozen as he retreated behind the ladder, using the slim rungs as the only cover available.

Squall had received gun training during his schooling, but still wished he had Lionheart, which would have made things much easier. Crouching on one knee, he raised his weapon and put two shots in the chest of a soldier that had ducked out of cover.

Scott knew that only by returning fire could they survive this. Then he saw Selphie clutch a damaged shoulder, Irvine painfully grab his pierced leg. It was up to him. He didn't know why, he didn't know how. But it was, he had this something he was wrapped in, pulling him, pulling and-

_Hyne sunk her fingers into the Knot surrounding this Outsider. Grabbed it. I will not let my children die! They belong to me, have saved me before, now I will- _

Reality jerked and sputtered. Scott found that thing in his mind, saw the tracer streaks flying down the tunnel, saw the enemy about to win-

_Hyne flung the Knot to the side, depleting her power and ripping more tears than there had ever been before. Flung it, and- _

Then Scott was behind the soldiers. It was but the work of a moment to raise the barrel and send the bullets smashing through flesh, blood and bone. The Galbadians fell to the ground, bodies contorting in the final pains before death.

_Hyne heaved with exhaustion, stars and planets faltering in their eternal orbits with her weakness. _

There was only the darkness. Mind asking, is it real?

-

The President was uneasy.

This in itself is not much to say, the President might have been uneasy for any number of reasons. Indeed, the title of President over the United States of America lends itself many reasons for nervousness.

But this time, the President was uneasy because the situation that might be occurring was one no President had ever dealt with before.

Once more, the President scanned the sheets in front of him. Placing them down, he sighed and rubbed his temples.

"So," He said. "This lab is not officially sanctioned?"

The Secretary of State moved his head in a negative. "No sir. We noticed these large movements of men to this private facility only days ago. I'm afraid that there is nothing we can do legally until further proof is substantiated. Satellite pictures of the area show a compound that could be used for many different purposes."

"Why is this a problem?"

"Our people agree this is the largest movement of manpower and equipment we have ever seen to a private laboratory. It may be harmless, may be some sort of testing that requires a great deal of people. Either way, we believe it should be investigated, if only to determine the value of the data they may be collecting. What really raised some flags were the identities of some of the men moving into the facility. Many of them are leaders in the field of science. Many large trucks have also entered. From satellite I'm afraid we can't tell what they contained."

"Have you tried inquiring through civilian lines?" The President questioned.

"Yes. Strangely, we can't even find out who owns the installation. Another reason to watch this."

The President mulled over this for a second. Then, he shoved the papers back into their folder decisively.

"Keep an eye on it."

"Yes sir."


	11. Event Horizon

_"I did feel out of place at first, but everyone made me feel welcome. Except Squall. Maybe that's why I kept getting drawn to him, he was a challenge. I'm glad I didn't give up on getting past those walls."_

-Rinoa Heartilly, _The SeeD and the Sorceress_

If there was one thing the world would remember you by, if you could choose, would it be famous last words? A shout out, 'Victory or death', 'Remember the Alamo'. A rebellion against the end you know is coming. Maybe it is only a way of expressing contempt for death, a vent for the defiant. Or the last attempt to make an imprint on the pages of history, so that someone will remember you. But how do you know you have been remembered, when you're no longer with the living?

-

A terror, a rain of fire. A maelstrom in his head, pummeling his senses and pushing him into utter fear. A shudder of dry bones and rotten flesh, the acrid reek of burning. _Is this hell? _He tumbled closer to the abyss, his mouth opening in a soundless shriek that was lost in the roaring chaos. Then he awoke.

Scott found himself laying face down in what appeared to be a ditch, dirty water clinging to his skin and soaking his clothes. Luckily, whoever had put him in the ditch had turned his face to the side so that he wasn't drowning, if someone had in fact put him there at all.

Vaguely, he thought he heard voices, muffled by the wind. The rushing air sounded almost like a large object was moving nearby, probably somewhere above his head. It reminded him of the black ball he had dodged in the hotel. During his stay in the sewers of Deling, Quistis had explained that the ball was a spell called, 'Demi'. She had said it had some sort of gravity effect. He didn't really understand it, and he hoped it wasn't the sound he was hearing.

He tried to move, and failed. Pain shot through his body, strange tingling pain that seemed to have no specific source. He tried again, and managed to open his eyes. This proved to be a twice bad idea, as this increased the pain and succeeded only in getting water in his eye. Blinking furiously, he managed to clear his vision enough to see what was going on.

He discovered that he was indeed in a ditch, but it was a concrete one. The rushing noise was not a spell as he had feared, but rather a large ventilation fan turning slowly in its setting. He was lying in a drainage tube to the side of a cement walkway. Voices echoed from the walls, and shifting light reflected off the water. Placing shaky hands on both sides of his body, he agonizingly levered himself up into a sitting position.

He could hear the grinding of turbines in the distance, a grating sound on the nerves. He grimaced and rubbed his ears. He nearly died of a heart attack when Irvine decided to speak, previously sitting unseen.

"Annoying as hell, huh?" He tipped back his hat, smile still in place. "It's driving Selphie up the wall. Well, when she's awake."

Scott opened his mouth to reply, only instead of words he released the contents of his stomach. Irvine recoiled in disgust as the vomit splashed, spreading its cloying odor. Scott retched again and bent double, wiping his mouth. He was shaking violently now, and had chills.

"Maybe you need to sit down. Uh, sit down more."

Irvine leaned over and helped him up out of the ditch onto the walkway, where he collapsed. Scott wasn't sure how long it would take to recover, but this was the last thing he needed. Irvine still hadn't moved, and Scott saw a bulky slapdash bandage peeking from beneath his pant leg, seemingly constructed from what he recognized as tied pieces of Galbadian uniform.

When he could breathe, Scott choked out a strangled laugh. "I hate this."

Irvine shrugged, not quite sure how to answer something like that. Shifting his weight uncomfortably, he glanced back at the ladder behind him as though still waiting for something.

"What is it?"

Irvine looked back at him. "What's what?"

"The ladder."

Irvine raised a finger to the ceiling. "Right above our heads is a mansion that belongs to- a person we know. We might be able to get up and out that way."

"Can we?"

"I don't know," Irvine painfully shifted his weight. "Quistis and Squall are up there now."

Scott nodded, still winded. He turned his head slightly and had another start when he saw Selphie slumped against the other wall. She didn't move when he raised an eyebrow. He thought he remembered her getting shot, which would explain her inactivity.

"Don't worry about her," Irvine whispered, trying not to disturb her. Scott saw she was asleep, or pretty close. "Her junctions softened the shot."

Scott felt somewhat envious. If _he_ was shot, how come _he_ couldn't sleep it off?

"Where do you get these junctions?"

Irvine looked at him in surprise. "Well, junctions are a pretty complex thing. I guess if you want it from the top, you need a GF."

"Yeah, but how would you actually junction one if you had it?"

Irvine leaned back, warming to the subject. "It's kinda weird, right? You just have this GF, this presence you can feel on the corner of your mind, like a sixth sense, you know?"

"Not really."

"So you can just reach out and grab it with your mind, like it sucks it in or something. It's like reflexive. Your mind just does it when you want it to. You don't need any training or anything and anyone can do it, as long as you have a GF. Which brings me to what I think you want."

"You got it."

Irvine turned serious. "These things aren't empty baggage. They come at a price. You might forget some things."

"I can't remember much anyway."

Irvine smiled again. "Fair enough. You can always keep a journal like the rest of us. Ohhh, how about I give you something gentle to start. You want Siren?"

"Okay."

"Here we go."

Irvine released Siren, sending her to Scott's mind. Scott felt an unfamiliar presence on a plane of his psyche he had never known existed. Then an image of Siren formed in his mind, coming closer to connection. The picture blurred, and then cleared. He had enough time to notice '_Nice tits._' before Siren was hurled away and the mental backlash hit his head like a sledgehammer.

"_Agh_! Goddamnit!"

Selphie awoke with a gasp as Scott grabbed his head in pain. His temples were racked with the worst headache he had ever had. He lost his balance and almost rolled back into the ditch. Irvine grabbed his shoulders to steady him as the aching subsided.

When his vision cleared, Scott groaned. "I- I don't think it worked."

Irvine nodded, eyes wide. "No kidding."

-

_Hyne didn't have much time to be indignant, but her temper flared as she felt one of her children reject an attempt to be junctioned. She knew Siren hadn't rejected the joining on purpose. Instead, this Outsider, like all, was incompatible. As these thoughts filled her mind her attention wavered. Another star collapsed, shooting its horrid dying light into the blackness. The supernova drew her back to her business, and she fought to contain her quickly deteriorating worlds._

-

It wasn't so much the edging feeling of unease that bothered Zell, he could attribute that to the fact that the vehicle he had so easily hijacked was quickly running short on gas. Zell had hidden in the trees and used a Blizzaga spell on the tires of the car as it had driven past. What he had failed to take into account was inertia- the forward passenger had flown cleanly out the top of the car. The driver had gone through the windshield. The two men in back had been removed by a weak Aero spell, strong enough to send them flying into the air, but not strong enough to lift the jeep from its trap. He had melted the ice with a quick Fire and that was that. But the broken windshield was now useless against the wind sheer. Squinting uncomfortably, he wished he had some goggles, or common sense.

Even Rinoa's admonishments for his dangerous stunt, reminding him they had radios, was no damper on his mood. He had a jeep, he had a mission, but he really had to take a piss.

Upon later reflection he might have found it funny that such a little thing could ruin an otherwise perfect operation.

If only the car ran on urine. At the present point in time he was pretty sure he could fill the tank. He would pull over, but Rinoa told him he was being pursued and had to make the city line fast. Considering how his bladder ached, he wouldn't be able to stop without wasting a lot of time. Plus, the horizon had turned an ominous gray, thunder echoing from the distance. The flatlands weren't a good place to be caught in a thunderstorm.

So clenching his legs and gritting his teeth, Zell drove on. It wouldn't be long now.

-

Hendrow liked the look of the city before him- a panoramic setting perfect for someone's bedroom wall. Like a glittering crown Deling lay in the middle of the empty plains. And also like a glittering crown, it was a treasure to be had. A perfect launching point for the new order.

The cars on the streets looked like they did back home. From his perch Hendrow could see a tiny vehicle racing down a dusty strip of road a ways outside the walls. He idly wondered what the speed limit was. The shape of the car was reminiscent to that of a jeep, but it soon was lost behind a hill and Hendrow turned his attention elsewhere.

There. Yes, there was the City Hall. But the first target of the night would be a large house on the outskirts of the downtown area. The current leader of the Galbadian government was housed there. Roland Polground. Julian had plans for him.

Hendrow settled back to watch the darkening sky, savoring the first moments before the storm.

-

Squall gently pushed the portrait aside. Thankfully, the room was dark. Motioning to Quistis behind him, they moved forward into the empty room. But something wasn't right. It was hard to tell in the low light, but it seemed to him that the room was in disarray, papers strewn across the floor and what seemed to be a desk laying on its side.

The shadows cast from the street lights outside played tricks on his eyes, dark corners filled with moving creatures waiting to prey on the unaware. Squall permitted himself a small smile at his unfounded childlike fears. The mind seemed to go out of its way to scare itself.

He gestured for Quistis to check the door as he reached behind the desk to take a handful of the strewn documents. A flash preceded the predictable rumble of thunder, briefly lighting the room. Squall could see holes in the wall, jagged punctures in the plaster. He presumed they were bullet holes.

If anyone had died in the mansion, it hadn't been in this room. There was no blood or bodies to be found. If Squall had one hope he held on to, it was that General Caraway lived. Whatever else the man was he was Rinoa's father, and probably the last hope for a sane Galbadian government.

Quistis came back from a cursory scan of the other rooms on the floor. Technically, there was no need to whisper, but something about creeping around in a dark and empty house demanded it.

"There is nothing here," She said, hushed. "The rest of the rooms look like this, whoever did this was very through."

Squall nodded shortly, suddenly engrossed in an interesting paper he had found beneath a chair.

Quistis looked around, also noting the bullet holes. "The General must have put up a fight."

Still wordless, Squall handed her the sheet. Quistis read its disturbing contents:

General Caraway-

SPREADING SUN has been transferred from your jurisdiction.

Relinquish all papers concerning SPREADING SUN.

You have 24 hours to comply.

Quistis tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, digesting the information.

"Spreading Sun?"

Squall put his hand to his head, deep in thought.

"Squall?"

Deciding he couldn't ignore Quistis, Squall gave a slight shrug. He turned for the door, signaling her to follow.

Quistis hurried after him, voicing her thoughts as they descended the stairs.

"This order to Caraway obviously preceded a shift in power. The General must have been deposed."

Squall grunted noncommittally. Quistis rolled her eyes and they stepped off the stairwell and into the entrance hall.

"The only other power player in Deling with that kind of political clout would be Polground. But why-"

She almost ran into Squall, who was frozen in the entryway to the dining room. Her last word slipped out of her mouth in a breathless whisper as she saw what lay across the threshold.

"Now.."

A magnificent table lay in the middle of the war torn room, its polished surface riddled with bullets, the walls and ceiling holding the same staccato patterns of destruction. Dishes were broken, paintings torn, chairs shattered.

A man lay on his back in the far corner, shirt ripped open from multiple exit wounds and the carpet around him stained a crusty crimson. A woman sat in a chair, hands curled in supplication immortalized by rigor mortis. The dead lay in rusty red piles around the room. Squall made it out to be at least twenty.

It was massacre. There was no evidence of returned fire, no weapons lying with the dead. Just the blood spattered walls and carpet that would never again be clean. It was obvious the General had indeed been deposed, and violently.

Grimly, Squall and Quistis began to search the bodies.


	12. Tonight, Apocalypse

"_all the burning lights, in this town tonight_

_the suburban sprawl, all those even lines_

_and if you don't feel lonely then you don't feel anything at all"_

-The Gloria Record, _The Immovable Motorist_

The APC was dusty, bumpy, and, Hendrow thought, an eminently unsuitable vehicle for a Vice-King to be. He had wanted to ride into the city with more style, but Julian had insisted on entering with the troops, claiming it would boost morale. Hendrow would be the first to admit Julian cut an imposing figure, but he himself wasn't what he considered an inspiring figurehead. Besides, for a man who had shown an utter indifference to general morale and comfort back at the Headquarters, Julian was certainly taking a sudden interest in the field. Hendrow had his own suspicions on why he had been so damnably insistent. Julian loved to see his ideas in action.

There was also a better reason for staying in the relative safety of the rear. The entire attack leaned heavily on the private armies supposed invulnerability to this 'magic', and the also supposed fact the defenders army relied heavily upon it. Julian's men were competent, but fifteen-hundred men does not an army make. This world seemed more sparsely populated than the one Hendrow called home, and Deling was but one city, so taking it wasn't going to be that much of a problem. But the real battles came later, and Julian had to have an edge that the enemy couldn't match. Magic. It had to be harnessed.

Hendrow's thoughts were shattered as the artillery opened fire in the hills, and he covered his ears as shells flew past, screeching to their deaths.

-

Zell was at the gate when the explosions started. Or rather, he was not actually in front of the gate, but instead viewing the maddening obstacle from a distance. And he hadn't much time to decide how to circumvent it. He couldn't go over it, there was no other way into the city besides the other gates, and a jeep couldn't drive through solid steel. These lines of thought all became arbitrary, when the gate detonated in a halo of flaming debris.

The shockwave sent the jeep spinning, hurling Zell against his seat and then flipping him over and out the top. In Midair his training reasserted itself and he landed and rolled like a pro, which he was, dispersing his inertia without breaking his body. He sat up, shaking his head, still dazed.

Another conflagration burst to life by the south gate, then another, and another. Soon a full blown shelling was taking place, targeting the city walls and gates. Zell covered his ears and huddled to the ground, trying to keep below shrapnel radius. The roaring echoed all around, reverberating off the hills that surrounded Deling and he could not pinpoint where the fire was coming from.

Then suddenly, it ceased. The wail of sirens became clear and emergency lights lit up the lower cloud cover, giving the scene an eerie glare. Zell punched the ground, exasperated. Of all the times for another revolution to spark. Still, he could hope to take advantage of the chaos and gain entrance to the city more easily.

Then of course, he realized he was sitting on a grate. Scrambling to his feet, he forced the grate to open and looked inside. He was pretty sure Deling had security alarms and other measures installed in case of intrusion, but with a fire fight raging above ground, who was going to be watching the sewer panels?

Feeling it was his best chance, Zell ducked into the grate and closed it behind him, and missed seeing the first APCs come barreling down the hills.

-

Squall was kneeling over one of the bodies when the explosions started. He was examining the body for any evidence, though the only clues thus far had been a clipboard and some blank pieces of paper. From the setting and appearance, Squall drew that these had been the Generals aides. Quistis was on the other side of the room, trying to find the General himself, if he was there.

Quistis finished, wiping her hands on a relatively clean patch of carpet.

"No sign of him," She said.

He now had a decision to make. The main focus was to escape, but SeeD also had a high priority for gathering information wherever possible, and if this had anything to do with what had happened at the hotel, then it probably should be followed up.

For the moment at least, it all became moot point as the ceiling above his head exploded.

Squall and Quistis were showered with fiery chunks of woods and plaster as the second floor roof fell in, taking off half the first floor ceiling. The noise was spectacular, and Squall, stunned, lay on the floor covered in dust. Pulling himself to his feet, he gained his bearings just in time to drag Quistis to safety before the stairway banister fell where she had been laying.

With a crack, what remained of the stairway plunged into the basement beneath it, effectively sealing their route back to the hidden entrance. Squall rolled Quistis over, checking her for serious injuries. Besides a gash across the forehead and a probable concussion, she seemed none the worse for wear.

However, she was unconscious, and that meant Squall would have to carry her. He picked her up and delicately slung her over his shoulder, grunting at the surprising weight. Moving as quickly as he could, he went for the front door, knowing that there could be police waiting right outside. He had little choice however other than to move out the front doors. It didn't occur to him that Deling was under attack until he looked out past the shattered wreckage of the entry hall and saw hell raining down on the city.

He noticed that the fire wasn't indiscriminate, but rather the walls were taking most of the beating. He saw the section of wall closest to the mansion has fallen in. Obviously, an errant shell had careened through the hole and planted itself in the General's house. Stepping gingerly around an unexploded shell in the front yard, Squall jogged around the mansion and into the back. Carefully hoisting Quistis into a better position, he clambered up the still smoking mountain of slag back into the upstairs, burning his fingers in the process. His spirits rose when he saw that the passage back to the sewer was not blocked. The stairway was somewhat crumpled and collapsed halfway down, but this would only delay him. Getting a firm grip on Quistis and the railing, Squall started his descent.

-

Scott was sleeping when the explosions started. He was dozing really, his tired and beaten body too exhausted to go on. Of course, it would be easier to sleep if Irvine hadn't been staring at him the whole time. It was obvious at least Irvine of the others had witnessed the events in the tunnel. But Irvine hadn't asked, and Scott didn't really feel like answering. As if he had any answers.

But what he did have was pain, and in abundance. Aching head, shooting pains through his legs and arms, dizziness, nausea. He leaned back and tried to block out the disturbing sound of Selphie's ragged breathing.

When the boom came, it reverberated throughout the whole tunnel system, shaking dust and small pebbles from the concrete ceiling and waking Scott and Selphie up immediately. Irvine jumped to his feet, swearing with pain as he did so. More and more sharp and loud sounds followed, the shaking become more severe.

Irvine ran over to the ladder and peeked up the stairwell. A roaring swell suddenly echoed from the ladder hole, and Irvine flung himself to the side as jagged pieces of steel and chunks of brick fell down where he had been standing. Irvine sat up, gasping with pain and clutching his injured leg.

"The stairwell collapsed," He wheezed. "Or at least partly."

Scott saw his eyes fill with fear, but not for himself. He realized that the building above might have collapsed, taking Squall and Quistis with it. He looked over at Selphie, but the junctions that kept her alive also had put her back into a healing sleep.

He eventually broke the short silence with a question.

"So, what's blowing up?"

Irvine shrugged, sliding into a more comfortable sitting position against the wall. The ground continued to shake, dim explosions rumbling through the subterranean complex.

"Might be some massive fireworks," He said, rubbing his leg. "But I'd bet on some kind of artillery. The city's getting shelled." This was further punctuated with yet another distant roar.

"Why? Who would shell a civilian city? Is this place at war?"

"Galbadia has always been a hotbed of political turmoil."

Irvine savored the sentence for a minute while Scott waited patiently for him to continue.

"I've always wanted to say that. It's a textbook perfect sentence. Anyway, it could be any number of radicals making a bid for the city. If you control Deling, you control Galbadia. Although, why you would want to is the real burning question. This country is nothing but trouble."

"So what do we do?" Scott asked. "Just sit it out?"

Irving nodded, pulling his hat down over his eyes.

"We need Squall to get down here first. If he... If he doesn't get back in two hours, SeeD regulations say we get the hell out."

Scott thought he was just going through the motions.

"But you won't leave, will you."

It was a statement, not a question.

"No."

The waiting began, and lasted for eight minutes before Squall dropped down out of the shaft.

-

Julian Foss himself was holding the gun to Polground's head before he ordered the artillery to stop firing.

The attack had gone perfectly, and the city had fallen with almost no resistance. Julian's men had entered the city too quickly for orders to reach the Galbadian army. Now the government was Julian's, and so was the army. Hendrow had taken over many corporations in his time, some hostile takeovers, some not. But nothing provided a sense of victory like taking a something with force. Hendrow thought it may have been the shortest conquest in history, but he wasn't sure of his facts.

Now it was all Julian's, and by association, his. Hendrow smiled as the former leader of Galbadia groveled under gun point.


	13. Inter Mundos

_"Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one."_ - Albert Einstein

Hendrow found Julian hunched over a large desk that looked like it was mahogany, formerly the property of Polground. He could see most of the filing cabinets had been opened, and several of those that had been locked were forced. Julian was flipping through piles of official documents. His browsing seemed random, but Hendrow knew Julian well enough to know that he was looking for something specific. Hendrow gently cleared his throat.

Julian looked up with a small smile. "Ah, Michael. I knew you'd be up here sooner or later, and now that it's later, you can appreciate the full benefits of my research. What you see here are all files of a secret operation aptly named Spreading Sun, one that might be not only of some interest to us, but also of use."

Hendrow pulled a battered armchair to the front of the desk and seated himself. The room itself was somewhat shabby, with tattered maroon wallpaper and matching carpet that was just as ratty. A single large painting hung behind the desk, and Hendrow saw it was the exaggerated likeness of Polground himself. There was apparently no accounting for personal taste in decor.

"Now, from what I have here," Julian said, shifting the stack of files. "It is apparent that Polground was little more than a glorified Governor. He had little saying outside of Deling, and in fact several factions of the army have formed areas of independence, free from any current political power other than their own. These groups are powerful only by force, and are not interested in what happens around here, so we shouldn't expect any serious military reprisals. However, this also decreases the amount of Galbadian troops we can command."

Hendrow absorbed this information, mulling over in his mind. While those other troops would be useful, they were not absolutely necessary in controlling and maintaining Galbadia. If an obstacle was immovable, then the next best thing was to go around it.

Julian paused, giving Hendrow a few more seconds to think it over, then continued. "The project 'Spreading Sun' was an ingeniously engineered operation, well above the capabilities of a man like Polground. He obviously had many intelligent backers, no doubt whispering in his ear so the damn fool wouldn't foul things up."

Julian almost never swore, and it was clear he held Polground in contempt as he did so many small men.

"It was a cleverly designed plot to topple various leaders of the separate factions so that they could be brought back into the fold, with the eventual long term goal of eliminating the Gardens. From what we've gathered it was an experimental project centering on some sort of biological weapon. According to Polground's personal files some progress was made while the project was still under regular Army jurisdiction, commanded by a certain General Caraway, but the project didn't move fast enough for Polground. It also states that the General objected quite strenuously to the use of biological weapons. Eventually, the General was deposed and the project given to a defector from some other country, a sort of freelance scientist. Again, close details of the project have yet to be found. I assume they were hidden from the General's supporters."

Hendrow raised an eyebrow. "They really planned to take the Gardens?"

Again, the small smile. "This clearly makes no real tactical sense. While the recovery of the various factions might be considered a Governmental priority, it seems ridiculous to jeopardize the stability that would be achieved by retaking the fragmented population by attacking a difficulty enemy. Perhaps the Galbadians had some larger plan for which the Garden infrastructure had to removed, but it seems to me that this is all part of an even larger grudge. Galbadia has a good reason for hating Garden, as they were a key part in the countries recent, ah, _troubles_. It is possible they hoped to reunite the country against a common enemy, but it may be entirely personal."

Hendrow shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "It seems a rather foolish way to run a country."

Julian decisively closed another folder. "Michael, we are dealing with some very foolish people. You will notice the takeover went flawlessly, an aspect that almost certainly would have been impossible in taking a much better governed state. Anyhow, as I said, this project could be used to our advantage. The Gardens seem to host many self-styled heroes, and heroes, Michael, save the day. We don't need any heroes here. Spreading Sun had already succeeded in taking two of the militant groups, and it would be in our best interests to keep the project running. It may be that in the future, we must either stop the Gardens from interfering with our projects, or simply put a stop to them entirely. Of course, we need the missing information to fully understand and utilize the project."

Hendrow phrased his next question carefully. "Taking a disorganized and relatively undefended country, and these were rather special circumstances, is something quite different from attacking a well defended and well trained base manned with an elite fighting force. Are you sure that would be wise, Julian?"

Julian leaned back in his chair and assumed the most relaxed pose the intense man was capable of. "As always, you are the careful voice of reason my friend. However, your concern is misplaced. I have done my research well, and I know what we're up against. You see Michael, the Garden does indeed nurture, train and sustain the most elite force on the planet. But what is also clear is that if this fighting force were to be imported to our world, they would be next to useless. Have you ever wondered, Michael, how this 'Squall Leonhart' can use his sword against men with machine guns? How can such medieval relics prevail in a world of very modern technology? The answer, as with so many things in this strange world, is magic. Garden students junction their weapons to divert bullets, or even give themselves the speed to block them. Using magic to junction spells to their bodies to increase strength, dexterity and other things, they also junction magic to swords and sticks to give the weapons firepower equal that of any gun, not to mention their extensive training in magic in and of itself, utilizing offensive spells like Firaga and even defensive magics too. All this combines to indeed make a formidable fighting force. But I see from your eyes Michael, that you already draw the obvious conclusion."

"Their magic," Hendrow said, smile widening. "Will be as always quite useless."

"Exactly. Against us the SeeDs will have a severe disadvantage. It will be men wielding pointed bits of metal, versus men who can spray death for hundreds of yards."

"But surely the SeeDs will have also been trained in more modern tactics too? Consider this Irvine Kinneas. He used what we consider to be modern weaponry."

"That well may be. But even so, we can crush them by sheer weight of numbers, and the Gardens will be an excellent asset to control. If we may find the secret of magic anywhere, it will be within Garden."

Hendrow mopped his brow, sinking yet deeper into the chair. "An ambitious undertaking."

"And simply coming here was not? Great risks beget great gains Michael, and the gains here far outweigh the risks."

Julian allowed himself a small chuckle. "It may well be Michael, that in a matter of time we may take a tour of this famous Garden first hand."

-

"Back." Squall gasped, running as fast as he could from the stairwell entrance with Quistis over his shoulder. Scott was closest to Selphie and grabbed her as best possible, moving while still being puzzled as to why. Irvine stopped, confused for a second since he had already been halfway into the action of getting Selphie, but regained his composure quickly and hobbled after Squall. It seemed that it was barely a second after they had cleared the area when the stairwell collapsed completely in a shower of twisted metal, burying the small room behind them.

All of them halted, Irvine clutching his leg and Scott slumping to the floor to ease the spinning in his head, still holding Selphie in his arms. Squall did neither, but instead set Quistis on the floor and surveyed the still smoking wreckage as the choking dust cloud enveloped them and then faded. Scott thought he might puke again, and propped Selphie up against the wall to remove her from the splash zone.

Irvine however threw back his head and laughed as if the near death encounter was some sort of personal joke.

"And that, people," He said with a grin. "Is how we do that."

Squall rolled his eyes and turned away. Scott would have rolled his eyes, but this seemed like a risky proposition as it felt like they might fall out if he did.

As Scott and Irvine nursed their respective injuries, Squall scouted out the best possible route of escape. With the total chaos ensuing above, their best bet was to now head for the city limits since their chances of slipping past the walls had greatly increased. Judging from the noise and the direction of the intense bombardment, he judged that the attack was coming from the east, but the fastest way to the walls from their position would be south. Squall was torn between a faster way to an avenue of escape and a probable safer way. From the condition of his companions he was tempted to choose the safer route, but he wasn't sure they had that kind of time. Finally, he ascertained to move quickly, and move out the canals to the south.

He turned to his friends. "We need to move out through the southern sewage tunnels. The section of city above us is almost certainly taken by the rebels already, but they probably haven't assumed control of all the city's security structures, assuming they're still intact."

Irvine shook his head, pushing painfully to his feet. "Quistis and Selphie are still out, we need more time."

"We don't have it. We can carry them, fast as possible. Hopefully they might wake up soon enough to speed things up. We need to go now."

Irvine slowly nodded, working himself up to moving. He turned to haul up Quistis but Squall moved faster, shouldering her first.

"I can go faster carrying her, and Keyor can carry Selphie. You're the only one with a leg wound."

In a perverse sort of way, Squall knew this was a damaging leadership policy for Irvine, spreading responsibility away from him and excluding him from the team. But they didn't have time.

"Move."

They went down the tunnels, sometimes jogging, mostly limping, with Squall slowing for the others and sometimes going ahead to check around corners. It was on one such corner check that Squall found a friend.

He had just turned the corner when he ran full into someone, falling back in a blur of blonde and black. In the dim light he couldn't make out a face, but the unknown person's mouth had begun to open, no doubt to warn others who may have been nearby. Squall reacted instantly with the reflexes of a seasoned veteran. He swung Quistis back out of reach and drove his fist into what he judged was the person's torso. The assailant reeled back, collapsing on the concrete floor. He had half opened his mouth to shout to the others when Squall made a stunning realization- the creature was sporting a familiar hairdo, and it hadn't been letting loose a warning cry, but a human shout of surprise.

It was in this way that the Deling team finally met up with Zell, with him lying gasping on the floor.

Irvine was the first to gain power of speech.

"Zell!" He gasped incredulously, faltering on his wounded leg.

The martial artist choked back a reply, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position, almost hyperventilating in two-parts pain and relief.

"Yeah, it's me," He said, grimacing. "I came to see what happened to you guys. Oh, Squall?"

"Yeah?" Squall grunted, trying not to show his rising feelings of relief and happiness at seeing his friend again.

"Next time, just hit me on the head or something and not in the stomach, okay?"

"Right."

Zell put out a hand for Squall to help him up, looking around at the five, assessing them. "Why are you carrying Selphie? What's wrong with her?"

There was a badly hidden tinge of panic in his voice. Squall raised an eyebrow.

"She was hit in the shoulder. Her junctions are healing her quickly, she'll be fine soon."

Zell shoulders noticeably sagged in relief. He saw Irvine and Squall were looking at him strangely, and he tried to shrug it off.

"Oh. So what happened to you guys? Who the hell is that? You look like crap."

That was rich, Scott thought, coming from a man still covered in the dirt and soot of the shelling. The number of people present was odd, he thought, without being sure why. Scott figured he could add, so subtracting him there were five good friends all around and he was the odd man out. But weren't there six heroes?

"Uh, hey," Scott said, trying to break into the conversation. "Isn't there some other person in your... Group?"

Rather than answers, all he received was stares. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, trying to maintain a firm grip on Selphie, who seemed to be feebly wiggling without being fully awake.

"No, seriously," Zell said, pointing a finger at Scott. "Who is this guy and why is he asking about Rinoa?"

Squall looked over at Scott, eyebrows lowered. "I know who he is, but I don't know why he asked about Rinoa."

A wave of palpable suspicion was emanating from them all.

Scott raised his free hand in placation. "I just thought that there was someone else guys, I wasn't trying to offend or anything."

Irvine and Squall seemed to be willing to reopen the question later as haste was in the cards for now, but Zell was still slowly cornering him.

"Zell," Squall sighed. "Not now."

But Zell wasn't having it.

"Hey man, you know there are people _interested _in Rinoa, or what she is anyway. And now some dude here-"

Irvine interrupted before his tirade hit full swing. "Relax. Trust me, he doesn't know Rinoa. He's not from around here."

"Oh yeah? Where you from then pal?"

Scott kept a straight face. "Out of town."

Irvine snorted in laughter and Zell glared suspiciously at both of them.

Squall decided that precious time was being wasted, and without word started off. Scott and Irvine quickly followed, with a startled Zell running to catch up.

"Hey man, wait up!"

-

Rinoa floated somewhere between the world and space, surrounded by a breathtaking array of stars and galaxies. Myriads of lights flashed and her heightened senses could detect every delicate ray and every speck of interstellar dust. The beauty of this was lost on her as she focused all her attention not on the cosmos, but a single city, harder to see than all the universe.

_Leviathan, soon now?_

_Patience, child._

Rinoa squirmed mentally for another two seconds before the need became too much.

_When then?_

No answer.

_Leviathan? Leviathan?_

Quickly, Rinoa searched her mind for the GF's presence. Yes, it was still there.

_Leviathan?_

_Now._

And like the sun rising, Squall's essence came blasting into her senses, just outside of Deling. His was followed by Zell, Quistis, Selphie, Irvine and-

_Ahhhh!_

A burst of mental static crashed through Rinoa's psyche an instant after she touched the strangers mind. Instead of a human presence there was a vacancy, a terrible vacuous hole in the world. It was a miniaturized version of the dark spot over Deling, but centered around one small point. She realized her friends could not sense this thing. She had to warn them.

_Squall!_

-

_Squall!_

Squall was in the process of hauling Quistis out of a drain when he heard Rinoa. He almost dropped his precious cargo but managed to catch her before she hit the ground. He looked around wildly.

_Rinoa?_

Zell grunted as Squall half dropped Quistis, forcing him to take most of her dead weight.

"What the hell man, hold your end up!"

_Can you hear me Squall?_

"Yes," He said, laying Quistis down and still scanning the nearby surroundings, with no sight of her. "Where are you?"

Zell misinterpreted Squall's sudden moves and shoved Quistis onto the grass, jumping up to his side. He crouched in a combat stance.

"Who's here man? Who's talkin'?"

"Rinoa?" Squall called again, ignoring Zell. Zell did a double take.

"Rinoa? Where? I thought she was-"

_Zell! Tell him!_

The obvious answer occurred to Zell about the same time Rinoa asked it of him. Squall stared at Zell.

"Tell me what?"

Zell grinned. "Oh, cool, you can hear her too!"

_Zell!_

"Right, right. Squall, dude, Rinoa can talk to your mind. Go ahead, talk back."

Tentatively, Squall did so. "Rinoa?"

_Squall!_

There was obvious relief in her mental projection. Squall however, only frowned. When had Rinoa been able to do this?

"When did you learn this?"

_Never mind that, you're in danger!_

Instantly, Squall crouched in the same fashion and Zell put his fists up again. By this time Irvine and Scott were manhandling Selphie up out of the hole.

"Where?"

_Behind you!_

Squall and Zell spun around, but the only thing to be seen was Irvine and Scott setting Selphie down on the grass. Zell scratched his head.

"Uh, I don't see nothin' Rinoa."

_No, it's right there! It's moving!_

Irvine and Scott were staring at them as they appeared to be talking to thin air. Irvine opened his mouth to speak.

_Irvine!_

"Gahh!" Irvine yelped, jumping a good foot into the air. Like Squall and Zell before, he glared around. "Rinoa! Where are you?"

Zell laughed at him. "She can talk to your mind man. Pretty cool huh?"

Irvine appeared to be stuck over this for a moment, but then accepted this new oddity with resignation. Everything had been crazy since he had been recruited from Galbadia. Nothing new here. He shrugged.

"Okay."

Now Scott was the only one left out of the loop, and he was very confused. He chuckled nervously. "Religious experience?"

Squall started to explain things to him, but Zell beat him to it.

"Yeah, we've got a friend who can talk in your mind."

Like Irvine, Scott figured there was nothing to do here but nod and pretend like he understood until someone could sit down and explain it to him. This was after all, a different dimension. Maybe telepathy was pretty common here. Mentally filing it aside for later examination, he moved over to pick up Selphie. Zell saw what he was doing and inexplicably ran over to beat him to it.

"Hey man, I got her," He said, hoisting her up and shifting her to a more comfortable position. "Relax."

_What's it doing?_

Squall shook his head. "Rinoa, I don't know what your talking about. There's nothing else here."

_Yes there is. I can sense five of you and something else._

Squall raised an eyebrow. "There is nobody else here but Keyor."

_Who?_

"Scott."

_Hyne Squall, I heard you. Why can't you just volunteer information instead of it being dragged out of you? **Who is Scott?**_

Squall tried to sound apologetic. After a somewhat long separation, this was not how he wanted to restart their relationship. "We met him in Deling. It's a long story. I'll tell you when we get back."

_Where is he standing?_

"Right of Irvine from where I'm standing."

_I can't sense another person. There's nothing there but this- this **hole** in time and space. I thought you were in danger._

Everybody who was conscious looked at Scott. He smiled nervously.

"What?"


	14. Exitus Celatus

_"Rinoa was the best thing that ever happened to Squall, and I swear that sometimes he came within an inch of throwing it away. He better be thankful she loves him, if I was his girlfriend I'd never put up with that crap. Wait, that didn't sound good."_

-Zell Dincht

Hendrow was on site when the files were discovered, jammed into a windowsill in the basement. They had been found during a full search of Poleground's former residence, Poleground himself now incarcerated in the nearby police station. The files in question were in fact, as Julian had suspected, detailed information on Operation Spreading Sun. Now that the final pieces of the puzzle had fallen into their hands, Hendrow knew the next inevitable step was to apprehend the main researcher and scientific proponent of the project, this 'Odine'. This might prove to be troublesome as it was not yet clear whether the good Doctor was in Esthar or in Galbadia. If Odine was in fact back in Esthar, he would be unreachable. However, if this came to pass, Julian had his own team of scientists ready to tackle the problem. The takeover would be much slower that way, but it was better than nothing.

Hendrow personally dropped the files on Julian's desk for perusal. Julian looked up from his current work and slightly raised one eyebrow.

"The missing files on Spreading Sun. They found them lodged in a window, of all places." He sounded as if the very thought was ludicrous. "Nothing appears to missing."

Julian didn't even blink. "Of course."

He slowly leafed through the small pile, taking note of the important bits before closing it. He looked at Hendrow who had taken a seat in the chair opposite of him. Julian tented his fingers, bringing them up to his lips.

"Michael," He said, turning to look out the window. "We both know that our sudden presence in this world is marked by violence. And really, we are at war."

Hendrow concurred. "Yes, that is true."

"So you see Michael that in war regrettable things happen. The information here put to good use will give us a firm enough foothold to attack the Garden. It is sad, true. Children are always the victims of any conflict. But we cannot have them interfering, and in the end removing them will actually save lives. The men will be reluctant. No one wants to attack a school. We are soldiers, not monsters. But circumstances may force us to do monstrous things. I say this all Michael, so that when the time comes, are you with me?"

Hendrow let out a breath. It was unfortunate that the Garden had to removed. He would instruct the men to take prisoners and offer mercy to those who might surrender. Regrettable, but it seemed to him that Julian was in the right.

"Yes, I am."

"Good. I knew I could trust you to do what had to be done. We will spare who we can and put the entire thing behind us once it is finished. After all, our objective is not slaughter, but conquest."

Hendrow smiled. " 'And when he saw the breadth of his domain, he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer.' "

Julian chuckled, reopening the folder. "Indeed he did Michael. But we have something that Alexander could not have dreamed of. And with further progress, I think we will never run out of worlds to conquer."

-

_Hyne shuddered in her reality. Truly, these Outsiders were mad._

-

Polground sat in his cell, his only company his thoughts. It had all been taken from him, everything, in less than an hour. He had worked so hard to rise to the top. So many small people had been crushed with his dramatic rise, and now that he was deposed, he feared for his life. He had no real friends, a few supporters who abandoned him after the takeover, and an abundance of enemies. Now he was unprotected in a public jail. If his enemies didn't kill him directly, then the new government might succumb to pressure to do so in order to gain favor with the masses.

Of course, he knew nothing of the new government. It had all happened so fast. The walls had fallen, soldiers with equipment he had never seen before captured the city, and a man with cold eyes had walked into his apartment and put a gun to his head. It had been a bad day. Even the last official report he received had been bad- the captive SeeDs had escaped. By now they were probably out of the city and gone. If he had still been in power, this would have been some matter of concern- the attack on the SeeDs had been part of a larger plan against Garden, and with their escape Garden would be quick to move against Galbadia. It was all out of his hands now. Indeed, the fact that Garden would probably retaliate was a good thing. Let them cause the invaders some trouble. These musings were interrupted by wheezing chuckled emitted from somewhere to his right. He was startled, unaware that he had any sort of cell mates. He recognized the voice the instant it began to speak.

"So, Polground," Caraway said, hauling his battered body into a sitting position in a neighboring cell. "Impaled upon your own sword. You do of course realize that you are the one who blocked all my city defense proposals so you could waste more money on your pet projects. Now you are imprisoned in your own jail as I am jailed by my own troops. Irony seems to be the thing these days. Tell me, who has violently inherited your empire? One of the independents?"

"Shut up," Polground snarled. "Why do you care? Either way, you'll never get out of here. At least I might bargain my way free. What precious information can you offer the new regime, Caraway?"

"Nothing. But then, neither will you."

Polground scurried deeper into the back of his cell, away from the terrible voice. "What are you talking about? I indeed might buy my freedom, perhaps with the whereabouts of your sorceress daughter..."

Caraway said nothing, but clanking sounds emanated from his cell. Polground warily peered in his direction.

"What are you doing?"

"Something I should have done awhile ago," Caraway said, moving up to the bars between them. "It took awhile for me to make this. But you seem a more fitting target than a guard. After all, the guards are just doing their job. You are a leech on this country, sucking away the soul of the people, and growing fat on corruption. And you will say _nothing_ of my daughter."

Polground barely had time to scream as a sharpened piece of steel found its way to his heart.

-

It had been awhile now and everyone was still staring at him. Scott fidgeted in place. He wondered if their invisible friend was talking with them. He really didn't think it was a good idea just to stand here. Every second spent standing around was one more that they could be discovered. For the moment though, he swallowed his urgency and waited.

Oddly, it was Squall who broke the silence.

"Who are you?"

Scott fidgeted.

"I told you, Scott Keyor."

"Then what are you?"

Scott held up his hands defensively, confused by the question. "I'm a person. Look, where is this going? I'm obviously human."

Zell opened his mouth to say something, but again uncharacteristically, Squall beat him to it. Irvine just kept one hand on his gun.

"We have a friend who... Sees without eyes. Looks at, essence, karma. You don't exist that way. You're just a hole."

Scott surprised them by only nodding quickly. "Well, yeah, yeah that stands to reason."

Irvine frowned. "How so?"

Scott spoke quickly, torn between the need to escape and the need to regain their trust.

"Well, according to research done at the lab, the basic atomic structure of every universe differs greatly. Not so much as to make them completely incompatible, but enough so that certain structures existent in only one universe, would be nonexistent to a being from another. On the most basic level. So basically, in my universe this, for lack of a better term, 'ESP' that your friend exhibits doesn't exist. Therefore, I don't appear on their 'radar', theoretically speaking."

Scott nodded again. "Now that I'm thinking about it, this would also explain why the magic backfired on my torturer. Stuff like that isn't around where I come from."

Zell was still back at 'lab'. "Lab? What lab? Odine's lab?"

Squall and Irvine ignored him, thinking over what Scott had explained. Irvine spoke first.

"So, magic doesn't do anything to you?"

"Yeah," Scott said, tired of talking and ready to run. "I guess so."

"And you can't junction."

"Nope."

Irvine blew out a breath. "Well, that limits your options a bit."

"Uh-huh, say, shouldn't we be moving about now?"

Squall shook himself out of contemplation and concurred. They needed to move, now, with no more surprises. Of course, he wasn't quite sure where to move too. The Ragnarok was back at Garden and would take time to get to their location, but that was beside the point. A spaceship would be a too obvious and tempting target for the Galbadians.

They fled from the outskirts of Deling, staying low to the ground and traveling in the ditches by the tracks whenever possible. The going was easy, without anyone spotting them, and the low clouds dimmed the light to the point where it looked like evening. The storm was still building, but fortunately, it only drizzled.

The going was easy, but not for Rinoa. She only followed with her mind, but the black hole that was Scott constantly distracted her and wore at her conscience. Sometimes she was tempted to shut down her perception entirely to block out the mental white noise, but concern for Squall and the others kept her ever watchful.

At the same time, she zoomed on ahead of them, searching for quick transport out of the country. With Deling recently falling, the trains would be out, so the best bet would be by boat. It would be best to avoid Dollet. The new establishment hadn't really had time to, well, establish, so while Dollet was still unaware of the recent news it was better to be safe than sorry. A SeeD ship pickup at the nearest beach would work perfectly, unless all the SeeD boats were out on call. One might be rerouted from a mission, but that might not be possible and would take a lot of time. As a last possible resort, they could try to make it to Timber where they could certainly find refuge with the rebels. Timber was a long ways away though, and there was no telling whether or not the new force in Deling would make a complete takeover as soon as possible. Of course, what Rinoa didn't and couldn't know, was that Julian Foss had no interest in taking over the rest of the country until his assets were firmly in place.

It was four hours later that the tired team found shelter under and outcropping of rock a ways off the road, and fell into an collective exhausted sleep.

-

The man smiled at the gate, holding a fake ID.

The guard didn't smile, but let him in.

The man passed down white tiled hallways towards his destination.

The guards didn't suspect.

The man passed through a door into a large room.

The scientists ignored him.

The Agent took pictures of the portal.


	15. Twilight Liaison

_"Being with her was the most wonderful thing ever. It was... Strawberries and cinnamon, sunshine and butterflies."_

-Zell Dincht

They had all taken shelter a little ways from the road and given in to exhaustion, each slumped wherever they could find minimal comfort. Zell felt this would be short lived since the storm was getting close to breaking. He was disappointed for two reasons.

The first was obviously the fact that he was very tired and had hoped to rest for awhile longer. The second was that during their respite, Selphie's lithe form had somehow become wedged up against his back, a position more titillating than usual since Selphie was in a definite lack of uniform. And thus two parts of him exulted- the part that loved Selphie and was giddy to be this close to her, and the part that wanted Selphie and was excited by the contact. The latter part was ordering him to innocently shift in his 'sleep' to an even more pleasing position against her, but somewhere deep in his conscious common sense told him that wouldn't look good to the others. If she shifted any closer though, he wouldn't care.

He was spared the decision when Rinoa sent a resounding call to wake up reverberating through his brain, and from the sudden start everyone else gave, he wasn't the only one. Sitting up, he was pleased to see that Quistis was awake, albeit still a bit dazed, and Squall was filling her in. Selphie was still unconscious, but her breathing seemed regular and she wasn't too pale, so there was no immediate danger. Irvine was shaking Scott awake, who of course couldn't hear Rinoa.

He figured he would carry Selphie, since Irvine was limping, the Scott guy was sick or something, and Squall was too busy... Well, he would be doing _something_ else. He was just being helpful, right? At least as far as anyone else knew, and he intended to keep it that way.

Scott still felt like crap. It was just like a hangover but worse, since at least if he had a hangover he knew what caused it and that it would eventually go away. He wanted to go home. A pervading sense of xenophobia was setting in, and he couldn't shake it.

He had a suspicion though. In the end, it might not even be worth it to go back. There had been a certain amount of speculation about time, and how it flowed in different universes. Speculation, and not much fact. His transition from Earth to Galbadia had seemed to happen in the blink of an eye, but if such theories were true, it may have been days, even years. Thus, every one day here could equal a hundred in Earth space, or on the other side of the coin, every day here might be worth only a second elsewhere. If the former was true, the Earth he would return to, if he returned, would not be the one he left. It was something best not to think about.

Squall called for a quick meeting to decide their next destination. While heading for Dollet would be the fastest way, it was also the most dangerous. Instead, their options were to go for Timber or attempt to contact SeeD for an amphibious pickup. The decision was made when Rinoa informed them she had already talked to the Headmaster, and an amphibious craft was on its way to a beach several miles east of their position. Scott waited uncomfortably as they all stared into nothingness, absorbing the news flash. Again, they all forgot he couldn't hear.

Scott cleared his throat to get their attention. "So, what's the good news? It is good, right?"

Squall, true to character, ignored him and Zell was already lugging Selphie up to the road. Quistis was still a little out of it so it fell to Irvine to respond.

"Yeah, there's a boat heading for us," He said, wincing as he stood. "Just a few miles. So cheer up! A few hours and we'll get you a hot shower and some clean clothes."

That sounded pretty good to Scott. He could worry about what happened after later. He and Irvine turned to go up the road and saw the other three already on their way. They hurried to catch up.

-

Scott wanted to clear some things up. So far the person he knew best was Irvine, so he turned to him for some answers. Ducking under Irvine's arm, he shifted some of the wounded cowboy's weight onto himself, easing off his wounded leg.

"Thanks," Irvine grunted, hobbling over towards Scott to balance. "The spells kill the pain but I still need to see a doctor when we get back."

"Right, right," Scott said. "The cure spell things."

"Yep."

"About that... how does it work?"

Irvine smiled. "You want the short or long of it?"

"Somewhere in between."

"Well then, lets see.. Quistis would probably be better at this, but I can give you the general idea. Many of the creatures around here, which we call monsters, are from the moon. And these monsters have magical powers. We don't know why or how these powers work, but they do. Humans like us cannot use that power. You with me?"

"Okay, we can't use spells like the animals. But you guys cast spells."

"Some scientist guys, like Odine, he's a scientist in Esthar, a country across the sea, figured out a way for people like us to junction GFs, or Guardian Forces, to ourselves to imitate this magic. It's not real magic, but something called proto-magic. It's adapted for our use."

Scott still really didn't understand what a GF was or how the whole thing worked, but he had a vague idea. It was enough for him. It didn't matter all that much anyway.

So Scott nodded like it was all clear to him. "All right, I get it. I think the real question is, can you magically get me back home?"

Irvine glanced over at him. "Don't ask me, I'm just a sniper. I'm sure Squall will find the right people for you to talk to when we get back to Garden."

He could see Scott was still less than convinced. Irvine laughed, punching him in the arm.

"Relax, man. We have plenty of time to figure it out. We'll do whatever it takes to get you back home."

"Sure," Scott said, keeping his doubts to himself.

-

Odine found himself in front of a desk, behind which sat a man he had never seen before and knew nothing of. His new boss. He could not help but be somewhat nervous as this man put away the files he had been looking at.

Julian leaned slightly back in his chair assuming a relaxed attitude. It was an attitude he had to work at to pull off.

"Doctor, Odine, is it?" Julian began. "I see here from these files you have done extensive work for Galbadia in the past. Good work, of course."

"Yes, zis is true," Odine said, desperately trying to get the measure of the man in front of him. Julian remained an enigma, his eyes giving away nothing. Odine thought it was very odd he had never seen this man before. He had thought he knew of all the major power players in Galbadia.

"According to these, _sources_, I have, you have done some work on Project Spreading Sun."

Officially, Odine's agreement with Poleground called for complete silence about the project. But since it was apparent Poleground was no longer part of the picture he had nothing to gain by not talking.

"Zis is also true."

"Good. Then you will be of some use to me. You lead the project to success in the past, and now we must finish it. We have other plans that depend on it's completion. You will help us do this."

It wasn't a question.

"First, we need to know how to use it, and who to use it on."

Odine cleared his throat. "I imagine zat you already know ze basics. It is a wind carried virus with a limited range, easily curable by those zat know how. Ze former leaders used zis to eliminate various rebels, destroying their respective revolutionary cells. Ze preferable method of use is by some equipment I created, an airborne distributor zat is programmable to seek out ze target. If you wish to complete ze planned project, you would kill ze remaining three leaders of ze largest rebels factions in Galbadia."

"How long would this take?"

"Ze virus is quickly lethal, and has a short life span. No longer zan two days."

Julian nodded and gestured over towards Hendrow, who had been standing by the door. "Michael here will take you to the area were you will work with my scientists to do this. You will be blindfolded during the trip. You will address Michael as Mr. Hendrow."

Odine said nothing, and followed Hendrow out the door, pondering this odd turn of fate.

-

Thanks to his work, little by little the powers that be knew about what went on down in the facility, and with every passing day they knew more. The Agent had insinuated himself into the normal working patterns of Julian's employees, posing as a low-level scientist assigned to studying the energy emissions from the portal. He was educated enough to do this, but he would have a hard time making his way amongst the higher ups.

It still seemed to him like some fantastic movie set, complete with a glowing sci-fi portal and faceless men running about in white suits. Like everyone else in the facility, the Agent quickly learned to wear goggles when in the portal room, where the strange light could cause pain in the eyes. This was actually a good thing since the goggles made everyone look alike, a fortuitous circumstance for a spy.

The first real breakthrough had occurred when someone mentioned GPSS. A scientist, probably in the rec room. Of all the things he heard, it was lucky he did a little research on this one. He hit pay dirt, and was amazed to read the file on the whole affair. He was aware the document was already on file at some government facility somewhere, but the information tied everything together for the first time. He wondered if they already knew this was related to what happened at GPSS, but asking questions like that was very stupid. He reported it as new findings.

He spent most of his time now trying to find out where this portal went. The GPSS papers didn't say, and the way they read he suspected someone had removed quite a bit of information from them. And between the omnipresent security and closemouthed technicians, just finding out where the bathroom was became a struggle.

It would take time, and he wasn't sure he had it.

-

It took only two hours for the boats to arrive, the plume of water just visible on the horizon and growing closer every minute. Scott would just be glad to get off his feet and out of danger. Maybe he would be excited about going to Balamb Garden when he was there.

When the boat touched shore Squall was the first one on, followed by Quistis. Both went up into the drivers compartment, probably to get on whatever form of communication the boat used to call the Garden. Zell lay Selphie down on one of the seats. Scott noticed he started to sit next to her, but then moved over to sit across when Irvine limped on board. There was obviously something going on with Zell and Selphie, but from what he had heard, Irvine was her boyfriend. Or maybe he wasn't. Scott didn't know, and the love triangle or whatever it was wasn't any of his business. What he didn't realize was that nobody else knew either. As the outsider, he had seen it first.

The interior of the ship was fairly bland, although it looked like there was a way up to some sort of deck above, which he thought he might check out later. Other than that there was some sort of screen on the far wall and that was it. Irvine sat across from Scott, leaning over towards him, apparently to brief him some more.

"We use these ships all over the world," Irvine said, patting one of the bulkheads. "They are extremely fast and pack a fair amount of fire power too. Top of line in amphibious landings, so it's a pretty sweet ride. We're lucky Cid diverted one to pick us up."

Scott figured he had to at least pretend to be impressed or have some sort of reaction. So far Irvine was his only friend here, and he didn't want to lose that. Unfortunately being friendly was becoming more and more of an effort. "They keep pretty busy, huh?"

"Oh yeah. Beach landings are the most common method of getting where we want to go, or at least most of the way there. You have amphibious assaults where you come from?"

Scott smiled at the question, odd as it felt. "June 6, 1944."

"What?"

"Very famous date in my country, and not a few others. Biggest amphibious assault in history. Or my history at least."

"Really? Tell me about it. There's nothing else to do."

So Scott did. He was past the invasion and talking about Cherbourg when Quistis came back down. She took a seat next to Zell, since Selphie took up all the rest of the other seat.

"So, what happened to you?" Zell asked.

Quistis leaned forward wearily. "I took a blow to the head when Rinoa's dad's house nearly collapsed on me and Squall."

"Oh. Does it still hurt?"

"What do you think Zell?"

"Oh, well, I was just thinking that maybe you were still hurt or something, so... Uh... I don't know."

Irvine laughed, leaning back into his seat. He looked at Quistis. "Don't confuse the poor boy Quistis. You know he has a limited capacity for sarcasm. Don't worry Zell, it's not your fault. You can't help being handicapped."

Zell frowned. Quistis just closed her eyes.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Zell said, eyes narrowing. "I'm not handicapped."

Irvine started laughing again, and Quistis sighed, eyes still closed.

"Nothing, Zell," Quistis said, resting her head on the seat back. "Don't worry about it."

-

Nightfall was nearing by the time Balamb Island was in site. Scott was standing up on the deck, enjoying the sensation of the craft speeding across the water top. Getting closer every second, he could see the sparkling lights of a town he assumed to be Balamb. He was surprised at the size- towns that small were rare back in his world. Or at least the parts he had lived in.

They passed several other boats coming in, fisherman returning home for the night. Scott dutifully waved back at them. Then, as they turned into the docks, he caught a glimpse of the Garden, or what he thought was the Garden, shining just above the treetops to the northwest. The lights glowed bright yellow and blue. He immediately revised what he pictured as the Garden in his head, his memory of the game vague and incomplete. He had figured it to be like any other military academy. Bright lights didn't fit into that.

As they docked, he went back downstairs to see if he had to wake anyone up. It wasn't necessary. Squall and Quistis were already at the door with Irvine. Zell was still trying to wrestle Selphie into a comfortable carrying position. The craft shook slightly, then came to a bobbing rest. Hydraulics hummed and the door opened with a woosh, its three prongs coming apart like a peeled orange.

The streets were mostly empty. Everybody was in for the night and most stores were closed. The street appeared vacant of vehicles except for one, idling at the entrance. Scott figured it was a SeeD vehicle when everybody else lit up at the sight of it. This was confirmed when the driver waved at them, opening the side sliding doors. When he was closer, Scott saw it was also armored.

Zell was the first one in, leveling Selphie into the back seat. The driver looked at her in concern.

"Is she okay?"

Squall nodded, sliding into the front passenger seat. "She's healing."

"Does she need to go to the infirmary?"

Squall nodded again, already staring out the window. Once everybody else was in, the driver shifted gears and started the trip to Garden. On the road, he tried to start up conversation again.

"So, who's the new guy?"

Quistis was looking drowsy, Irvine was already asleep, Squall was unlikely to talk so Zell fielded the question.

"It's a long story," He said, trying to put a seat belt around the limp form of Selphie. "But he'll be at Garden for awhile."

"Long story huh?" The driver laughed, looking at Squall next to him. "Looks like it. What happened to your clothes?"

Zell grunted in exasperation. Selphie had almost fallen off the seat. He struggled with the seatbelt without answering. Scott reached over the seat back to help him.

"What, not going to tell me?"

"Huh?" Zell asked, not paying attention. With the combined strength of Scott, the seatbelt finally snapped together. "Oh, look Nida, we're saving it for debriefing. I'll tell you all about it later, okay?"

"Fine," Nida said, applying the brake to avoid hitting a large pothole at high speed. "But I want all the details."

Garden came into view about fifteen minutes later. Scott was surprised, and not a bit awed, at the huge structure. It didn't look anything like any school he had ever seen. The picture in his head had been of a standard military installation of boring concrete gray and monochrome tiled halls. What stood before him had more in common with some massive dance hall, complete with bright lights and terraces.

Nida pulled the car into the Garden garage. After it was parked and turned off, he hopped out and he and Squall helped Zell pull Selphie out. Squall lifted Selphie up with Zell and turned to Nida.

"I want you to find Scott a room for the night. We'll sort all this out with the headmaster tomorrow."

"Yes sir," Nida said, saluting. He motion at Scott. "He's Scott, I gather."

Squall didn't bothering answering such an inane question. He looked at Irvine questioningly. Irvine was hobbling to catch up. He nodded to the unspoken query.

"I can walk."

The three went off to the infirmary, leaving Scott and Nida standing just outside the car. Quistis slid out the door a bit unsteadily and went off after the others.

Nida looked over at Scott. He thought about asking a few questions, but held back. His curiosity could wait until tomorrow.

He motioned towards the dormitories with his head. "Let's go, I guess."

Scott followed him out of the garage into the commons area. As soon as Scott stepped out into that vast space, he froze, taking it all in.

It was a huge room, a dome shaped structure with branching hallways leading off into the outer rings of the Garden. It was apparent the entire place was concentric rings leading out from each other, the hallways neatly stacking to make a narrowing circle. Nida explained that the large square shaped protrusion on the other side of the Garden was a large auditorium and ball room. Surrounding the central walkway were fountains, which were also spaced in a smaller circle around an elevator shaft which was directly centered in the Garden, looking for all the world like a hollow glass support beam. Halfway to the ceiling was the first stop of the elevator, with branching suspended walkways leading off both sides into the upper portions of the Garden. At the very top built into the roof itself was a large circular space that the elevator shaft ended in, which Nida told him was the headmasters office and quarters and the control station for when the Garden was in motion.

"This thing moves?" Scott asked incredulously, eyeing the sheer size of the place.

Nida smiled, secretly proud to be showing off the Garden. "Indeed it does, thanks to the antigravity ring that rotates around the bottom. The Garden is actually partially buried in the ground at the moment. There are a lot of passageways and rooms filled with machinery and stuff below us right now."

"But you guys have a ton of water in here. Wouldn't that mess the place up?"

Nida nodded, remembering. "It did when we first moved it. Damn near flooded the lower sections of the Garden, although thank Hyne the library was spared. Now we drain it all before we move."

"To where?"

"Where do we move or where does the water go?"

"Where does the water go?"

"Holding tanks at the bottom of the Garden. There was a bunch of space there that wasn't being used. If we need more speed we can just dump it out while moving."

Scott felt the strong need to explore, but it would have to wait. He followed Nida around the ring and down the hallway into the dormitories. The hallway ended in two stairwells to the left and right. Nida lead him up the right stairwell into the second floor men's dormitories. There wasn't anyone down here either, and Nida explained it was after curfew. After going up one more flight into the third floor they went down about twenty doors when Nida stopped at one.

"This is yours," He said, handed Scott a keycard. "It's a single room for higher rank SeeDs. Most rooms on this floor are doubles and the second floor is all triple bunks."

"What's on the first floor?"

"Like you saw, the first floor doesn't have that many rooms except that few along the entrance hallway, and there are about ten more behind the stairwells. Those are for teachers."

"How many floors are there?"

"Six. They get progressively smaller the higher you go up. The central elevator goes only to floors three and the headmasters office, where Squall has his own freaking penthouse. Not that I'm bitter or anything. Between you and me, it also goes all the way down, but most students don't know that. There are a few other elevators. One in the cafeteria that goes to the classrooms above, one in the library, and a maintenance elevator in the Training Center. No one is allowed to use the maintenance elevator and the library elevator only goes to some conference rooms over head. And only teachers use the one in the cafeteria, to get to their rooms from their breakfast before class. With all the kids here everybody just has to use the stairwells, and the one place we could really use an elevator or two is here in the dormitories, which we don't have."

Scott looked incredulous. Nida laughed at him.

"I know, it's not a very convenient system at all. Especially for such a large structure. But this place was converted into a school. It wasn't its original purpose. This whole thing was a mobile shelter built by the Centra."

"The who?"

"I should probably let Quistis or someone handle that question, I'd probably be talking a bunch of crap. Well, have a good night. I'll probably be the one they send to wake you up tomorrow."

With that, he left Scott standing in the dimly lit hallway. Scott realized Nida hadn't told him how to use the keycard. Well, there was only one pad on the door, and said pad had only one slot. There was only so many ways you could stick a rectangular card in a slot. After a few tries, he did it right and the door slid open.

The room was fairly bare. There was a dresser against the wall to his right, a small bathroom to his immediate left, a closet next to that a bit farther down, and against the far wall directly across from him an already made up bed. The bathroom had a shower that couldn't be more than three by three feet square, and a toilet and a sink with a mirrored medicine cabinet over it.

He looked down at himself, still wearing nothing but boxers. He sure was glad that nobody had been out and about in the halls. He opened the dresser. Unfortunately, it was empty. He was about to accept the prospect of spending the next day in his briefs when there was a quiet knock on the door. He fumbled with the pad, before deciding he should probably press the green button that said 'open' beneath it. The door slid aside to reveal Irvine, now clad in his usual gear. He tossed a bundle of clothes to Scott.

"Here," He said, turning to go. "Put those on tomorrow. Considering what those boxers have been through, I suggest you sleep naked if you want to sleep at all."

Scott looked down at the uniform his was now holding. "Right. What time are we getting up tomorrow?"

Irvine shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it. We've all been through a lot and the debrief can wait. Get up whenever."

He started to leave, then turned back around and smiled at Scott. "Unless, of course, you're not planning to sleep. I happen to know several ladies who might be interested in the company of a fine young man like yourself..."

Scott blinked. Was Irvine trying to pimp him out? Maybe he was just joking. Scott was too tired to tell.

Irvine just laughed at his lack of response. "Kidding, man. Just kidding. You're probably wiped anyhow. See you tomorrow."

With that, Irvine walked off down the hallway. Scott did nothing more than key his door shut before he collapsed into bed, and promptly fell asleep.

-

But for others in the Garden, sleep was far from reach.

Selphie found herself wandering the Quad. It was past midnight now, 1:23 by her watch, and the Garden was silent but for the soft background noise of the fountains, and the faint hum of ancient machinery deep beneath her feet.

They had released her from the infirmary half an hour ago. She felt kind of bad that they had to run a late shift just for her. They had been nice about it though, and Quistis had went and picked up some clothes from her dorm. Now she was struggling to see if she could remember any of the mission after she had been shot. She thought she vaguely remembered another tunnel, with that man Scott sitting with Irvine across from her. But besides that, nothing.

Her footfalls echoed softly in the cavernous space of the central dome when she walked up the stairs. She wasn't sure why she was still up, especially after just fully recovering from a gunshot wound. She had just been sitting on the stage, thinking. About things she hadn't had time to think about before. About Irvine. And maybe.. A little about Zell.

She decided she should go back to the dormitories. She wasn't sure if she could sleep, but she should at least give it a try.

She was walking down the hallway to the stairwells when she saw Irvine coming down. He had one of his many guns with him, and all of his gear. _Training at this time of night?_ Apparently she wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep. He stopped when he saw her. A smile spread across his face.

"Look who's up," He said, running over to give her a careful hug, since he knew she was probably still sore. "They give you a clean bill of health?"

"Yeah," She said, not looking at him. He slowly let go, unsure of what to do next. Her attitude puzzled him.

"Irvine," She said, now looking up at him. "We need to talk."

A dreaded sentence. He was about to reply when one of the teacher's dorm doors slid open, revealing one irritated geography professor.

"If you don't mind," He hissed, glaring at the two of them. "Some of us have to teach a class tomorrow."

They just walked away without answering, neither wanting to get into a loud argument and wake up anyone else. Automatically, without talking, they went to the Training Center. They stopped just in front of the double doors. There was an uncomfortably silence before Irvine broke it, fidgeting nervously with his gun.

"I... Guess we haven't talked much lately," He said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Selphie said nothing, waiting for him to continue. What was there to say? Their relationship was like a bridge that had collapsed in the night. There was no sabotage here. Just a lack of maintenance. Irvine opened his mouth, then stopped. Suddenly he grunted in anger.

"Hyne, why does this have to be so hard?" He burst out, looking at her. "Selphie, it's obvious we're not... Together, anymore. I just want to know. Was it my fault?"

"No, Irvine," She said, shaking her head. "No, it's not. It just happened. Don't blame yourself. I don't."

"I just can't help but feel that I failed somehow."

"No," She almost whispered, blinking hard. "No. You never promised me anything Irvine."

He felt like she had slapped him but she was still speaking- "I know you weren't ready for anything more, but maybe I am now. I loved having fun with you. But I need something serious."

"I'm sorry Selphie," And he meant it. "But I can't give you that."

She had already known these truths but it hurt to hear them spoken. "Then I guess this was the best thing to happen."

He nodded, not knowing what to say next. It created some obscure pain in him to know that she had outgrown him and his affections.

"Irvine. We may not be a couple, but I don't want this to break up our friendship. Can we put all this past us? It won't be easy, but maybe if we just tried to move on... I don't want you or me to be tied to this, to each other."

He smiled as best he could. It wasn't easy to let go of something he knew he could have had. But it wasn't his time yet, to commit like she wanted. He could not have met her needs. There was a momentary ache somewhere deep inside as he came to terms with what he had lost, a life with her, because he hadn't reached that place she seemed to be yet, and maybe never would. But he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, and he knew it was the way it should and had to be.

He laughed, and it was an honest one, pulling her in for a hug. "Come here you!"

They shared a hug for a few seconds. Irvine broke it off. He sighed, still smiling.

"Well, as far as breakups go, that went well. No slapping, screaming, or kicking."

She smiled, feeling that something that had been weighing on her for some time had been lifted. "I guess we could always arrange that if you'd like!"

"No," Irvine said, backing away. He gestured at the Training Center. "That's alright. I've got enough things behind those doors that want to kick the shit out of me."

He smiled, and she smiled, and then they walked away, and didn't look back.

-

Selphie's mood was subdued as she walked back towards the dorms, but she felt freer in a way that she hadn't ever since the day she had realized that she wanted more than Irvine could offer. It would be so easy to be hard on him, she knew, to hate him for withholding that from her, for not being the man she needed him to be. But it wasn't his fault- he had never made any pretensions of being anything other than himself. He had never lied to her either through voice or actions and she felt then that it was her fault for not leaving sooner, for pretending like she had never wanted more from a relationship. She was the liar, fooling herself and him, locking her heart in stasis to meet expectations.

She shook her head. It was over now. She had left, he had let go and there was no point in placing meaningless blame.

She was circling towards the dormitory hallway when she spotted something extremely odd. There was somebody sitting on a chair on the third floor walkway off the elevator. On closer inspection she realized it was Zell. What in the world was he doing up there?

Having nothing else to do except go to bed, she decided to find out. Traversing the tiled floor and up the stairs, she entered the central elevator and rode it up to the walkway. The doors slid open, and sure enough, there was Zell. He was sitting on a folding chair, leaning halfway back, dressed again in his usual attire. He was holding several packs of Triple Triad cards in his hands, shuffling them. He looked over at her and smiled. His smile made her feel warm, and she shivered slightly.

Zell, of course, was oblivious. "Sweet, you're back up! Feel okay?"

She opened her mouth to reply but was suddenly cut off by a strange moaning noise that seemed to come from nowhere. She started in surprise and looked around, but it was only her and Zell on the balcony. She was even more confused when Zell snorted in laughter, chuckling as he leaned farther back in his chair.

She looked at him, eyes wide. "Two things Zell- What are you doing up here, and what was that?"

Zell shrugged, sinking lower in his chair. "Sometimes I sit up here at night to think. It's a great view, and there's no one around to bother me."

Selphie bit one of her fingernails. Was he mad at her for bothering him? He didn't sound like it. It wasn't really fair of him to think she came up here to bother him, how was she supposed to know? She leaned against the rail across from him.

"Yeah, it's nice up here. What about the noise?"

"Shhh," Zell shushed her, lips spreading in his trademark grin. "Listen for a second and you might be able to tell."

They waited for a few seconds and it came again. Definitely a human moan. Female. But what was... _Ohhhh._ Her cheeks reddened in a widening blush as she realized Squall's room was directly above them. She looked up and sure enough, there was a vent. Then Squall and Rinoa were...

Zell started quietly laughing at her, leaning his chair back even farther. She frowned, half in embarrassment and half for Rinoa's sake.

"You shouldn't be up here listening to them!"

Zell contorted his face into a expression that said 'So?'. "I was here first. I didn't come up here just to listen. But it helps pass the time. I'm playing a little game with myself- every time I hear Rinoa, I lean my chair back a little further. I'm trying to see how long it takes before I fall."

He had no sooner finished speaking when a particularly loud moan came drifting down the vent and sure enough, Zell tipped over with a crash that seemed incredibly loud in the silence. Selphie grabbed his hand, pulling him up and dragging him down the hallway towards the classrooms.

"You are not going to stay there and listen," She scolded, walking quickly. "And what if you woke somebody up with that crash?"

"Oh, come on Selph. Where's your sense of humor, man? 'Sides, we saved the freaking world, I think they can cut us a little slack for being out past curfew."

Out past curfew with Selphie Tilmitt. Out past curfew with Selphie Tilmitt who was holding his hand. Out past curfew with Selphie Tilmitt who was holding his hand and was already taken by one of his best friends.

_Play it cool, Dincht. _He told himself._ Don't do anything stupid._

"Besides, it's not like anyone's going to think we're making out or something."

_My brain doesn't listen to me._

"Unless of course, you want to."

_My brain wants me dead._

Selphie was a bit confused. That was a very Irvine flavored line Zell had just delivered. Zell Dincht, who, last time she had checked, blushed when a girl looked at him. Did he go through some type of rapid change in maturity, or was he high? Either way, the prospect of making out with him seemed suddenly appealing. Before she could ask him, he was already apologizing.

"Oh, sorry Selph, I'm just kidding. I don't know where the hell that came from, I'll... Just shut up now."

Selphie said nothing. What was wrong with Zell tonight? This just wasn't like him at all. Staying up late, listening to Squall and Rinoa? The Zell she knew went to bed after exhausting himself in the Training Center, and would have been far too embarrassed to stay on the walkway. Now that she thought about, he had been acting strange for awhile now. Well, he was her friend, and she was going to get to the bottom of it. She knew just where to do it too.

There was a room she had found once, a small one, that was not part of the known Garden structure. She had seen it on some defense plan blueprints of Garden, which she had found on the computer system in the basement. It had been after they had discovered the Garden could move, and Squall had requested that they be printed in case there was anything else important they needed to know.

It was apparently the remnants of some stairwell construction that was never completed, a room built into the ceiling over the third floor classroom hallway. It wasn't anything important that she needed to tell anyone else about, it was empty. The only way to get to it was by releasing one of the light fixtures underneath it and crawling up inside the framework that held the Garden together. If you carefully crossed a series of beams, you could climb up and over into the room which was about ten by seven feet rectangular, with walls about four feet high. Just a small framed box with no top, sitting there in the beams.

She had only been in it once, right after she had found it in the blueprints. Late at night she had made her way into the ceiling just to see if it was still there. And now it was the perfect place to talk to Zell without getting caught out after curfew.

"Hey," she said, tugging on his arm. "I want to show you something."

Zell's mind jumped to all the obvious male conclusions on what exactly she wanted to show. But figuring there was no way in hell he could be that lucky, he settled on being clueless.

"What?"

"Come on," Selphie urged, not answering. She led him a bit further down the hallway until they had completely circled the third floor by walking, and back to the place where the walkway met the hallway. She remembered the exact spot well, since it was where she had first met Squall.

Zell was confused further when she stopped and started jumping up towards one of the lights. She stopped and looked at him, judging his height. Zell had hit his growth spurt after fighting Ultimecia and had gained quite a few inches.

"Here," She said, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Give me a boost."

Zell complied, easily hefting her up towards the ceiling. While she fiddled with the light, he spent the time studying her well rounded posterior, which happened to be right by his face. He could think of few better ways to spend a night out past curfew than communing with Selphie's well rounded ass. He was a weak man when it came to her ass.

With clank, the fixture came free, and she pushed it up into the hole it had come from, sliding it back out of the way. She looked down at Zell to tell him to let her down, and saw him doing what could only be described as staring at her rear end. He gave a start when he realized she was looking at him, eyes wide. Unable to quickly think of a way to cover, he just lowered her back down to the floor, averting his gaze.

Selphie wasn't really sure what to think. With the bent her feelings had been going in lately, she took it as a sign that he might be feeling some of the same things she had been to. And deep inside her, something decidedly feminine felt triumphant, and maybe just a little bit wicked.

She jumped up again, pulling her self up and over into the ceiling. Zell just followed without asking questions. Going up into the ceiling in the middle of the night was weird, but it was with Selphie, so he wasn't complaining. Once he was in, Selphie slid the light back into place.

Zell had figured it would be pitch black, but instead he could see just fine. The lights in the lengths of the hallway gave off their dim glow up here too. The fixtures weren't covered on the top. During the day, they would be even brighter.

He followed her along the beam, one foot in front of the other. He wondered, if he fell, would he fall through the ceiling back into the hall? It was best not to find out.

It was only a few yards before Selphie lowered herself down into something he couldn't see yet, since it was below his line of sight. When he came closer, he found himself looking down into the box, surprise stamped across his features.

He hopped down into the box, his impact making a louder noise than he expected, echoing through the rafters and sending vibrations through the floor. He winced, (although even in his embarrassment he couldn't stop himself from enjoying how her breasts had jiggled slightly on his landing) looking apologetically over at Selphie. She just sat down, patting the floor indicating that he should too. Warily, he complied, not at all sure what was happening.

"Zell, we've all been a little worried about you," Selphie began, figuring 'we' would be safer than 'I'. "You just haven't been yourself lately."

Oh, so that was it. Anger, that old friend, stepped up to the plate, pushing aside Lust and someone else with a small voice whose nametag might have read 'Love'. This was a therapy session for Zell, the only one in the group who just couldn't be normal, just couldn't get a girlfriend or be happy all the time. Well, who was she to talk?

"Me?" Zell demanded. "What about you? What's been up with you?"

"This isn't about me," She stammered, off balance from the sudden attack.

"I don't see how it's any of your business."

"Zell, why won't you let me help you? You should have asked me, or any of us for help if you need it."

"Maybe I don't need help."

"And maybe you do Zell!" She said, anger coming through for the first time.

Zell jumped to his feet, pacing back and forth. He couldn't sit still when he was like this. Or when she was this close. Maybe it was an exercise in self control but for fuck's sake he just couldn't _think_ when she smelled so good and looked so soft just sitting there, and he was trying to talk, to leave, to do anything. How could he really talk to this girl, this woman, his friend when all he wanted to do was bury his dick between her legs? Crude maybe, but it was the truth and it was driving him crazy.

Selphie watched him in silence, waiting for him to say something or sit down. He sat down.

Zell was not the kind of guy who could really hide his feelings, it was obvious that something was eating at him. She repressed a sigh of exasperation. They had always been close, and if he couldn't talk to her, she didn't know who he could talk to. She wanted him to open up to her. She wanted him to let her in.

"Zell, please," She pleaded. "I just want to help."

He looked up in anger, but when his eyes met her crystal green ones, he just couldn't say no any longer.

This was a mistake, he told himself. But she looked so worried about him and oh Hyne she was doing that biting thing with her lower lip again and he was glad he had changed into some looser pants and there was nothing left for him but to spill it.

"It's just," He tried to start, struggling with the words. How could you talk about these things while still holding parts of yourself back?

She nodded, wanting him to know that she was listening.

"You know, it's... Well, Squall is with Rinoa, obviously..."

'You're in love with Rinoa?"

"No! Hyne, it's just you have Irvine and I have no-"

"Me and Irvine broke up."

"You see? That's exactly what I'm- What?"

"Me and Irvine broke up."

Zell felt something that could only be likened to a brick impacting somewhere in his mid torso. Selphie and Irvine. Broke up? When? How? Why? _Who cares Dincht, this is your chance, before some other guy snags her! _As if. Ironically, now that she actually was free, he was even more nervous. Before when she was with Irvine at least he _couldn't_ tell her because Irvine was his friend. Now, she was unattached, and sitting up in the ceiling alone with him in the middle of the night. Be careful what you wish for. Zell might have been comforted if he had known that during his entire train of thought, his face, for once in his life, actually betrayed nothing.

Selphie, for her part, was trying to read into Zell's reaction, with no success. Rather shocking, since usually Zell was an open book to the world. He was thinking hard about something.

Well, so was she. There had been something between them for awhile now. She was a single woman who, she could now admit, wanted him. She wanted Zell Dincht. Even with Irvine she could never recall really wanting someone, feeling the need to pursue them. But tonight was an opportunity, and she wasn't going to let it slip through her fingers.

Selphie had never been much of a tease, but she was definitely a woman. Keeping silent under the pretense of not wanting to disturb his thinking, she innocently shifted her position on the floor, allowing her dress to ride up to expose few more good inches of thigh. She was immediately rewarded when Zell's eyes zeroed in on the newly exposed flesh like it had said his name.

She suddenly stood up and walked the few feet between them, slumping down next to him. She felt him stiffen at the closeness.

"What are you thinking?" She asked him, looking down at the floor. She rubbed her hand across the floor as if idly feeling the texture, her hand 'accidentally' brushing his several times.

Zell figured now was not a time for honesty, since if he voiced his thoughts at this particular moment it would result in a restraining order. "Nothing."

"Mm." She hummed noncommittally. Then she took the big jump. She leaned her head back as if staring at the ceiling, resting it against the wall, looking straight up. Giving Zell a clear line of sight down her shirt front.

Booby trap, she thought to herself wickedly.

For Zell, it proved to be too much to resist. The first glimpse of those porcelain curves and that sweet, dark dip between them and he was lost.

She let about two seconds pass before she jerked her head up and found him rapturously taking in the view. He gave a sudden start when he realized she was looking right at his face. His eyes met hers, filled with guilt and apprehension at the immediate backlash he knew was coming.

Instead, she took the final plunge. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

Her lips were smooth, Zell thought with remarkable detachment. Warm, too. Realizing he should probably be doing something, he tentatively kissed her back. He felt he was starting to get the hang of the rhythm and breathing through his nose. Then she shoved her tongue inside his mouth and his thoughts vanished liked smoke. Libido rolled up its sleeves and got down to business.

Selphie gave a little squeak as he rolled over on top of her that went straight to his cock, and even as he almost frantically ground against her he had the vague presence of mind to hope she wouldn't smack him for it. These fears were proven to be unfounded when she grabbed the back of his head and kissed him harder.

Things, he felt, could only get better from there on.


	16. Contingent Deception

_"We would all find out later that Seifer was under the Sorceress's control during the thing. I can't imagine what he went through, remembering doing all those terrible things and not being able to stop. While eventually we all forgave him, I don' t think Quistis ever needed to."_

-Irvine Kinneas, _The SeeD and the Sorceress_

Rinoa rolled over in the bed, squinting as the bright sunlight streaming through the blinds hit her still closed eyes. She yawned, stretching her arms out as far to the sides as they would go. Squall was gone, as she had known he would be. He would be in his office, already getting a head start on the paperwork. Through the walls she could hear a humming reverberation as Xu made an announcement, most likely something concerning the cafeteria, and the faint chatter of students early to rise. Just another day in Balamb Garden. With Ultimecia defeated, the purpose for which the Gardens had been created had become obsolete, and slowly but surely the Garden was shifting more and more towards becoming nothing more than a advanced private school. It was expected that in a matter of years Garden would no longer train new SeeDs, and the number of mercenary contracts that were accepted would dwindle off into nothing, no doubt resulting in the creation of a hefty tuition fee. For the moment however, a generation of fighting SeeDs was still housed in the Garden, and the art of combat was still taught in its gilded halls.

Rinoa showered and dressed, brushing her hair to until it held its usual silky sheen. Today was a day off for her, so she didn't have to worry about classes. Crossing the carpet she slid open the door that led directly into the adjacent commanders office. Squall was intent upon something or the other, alternating between scribbling furiously and peering into the glowing screen before him. She smiled. He looked so cute when he was concentrating. Coming up behind him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on the top of his head.

"Good morning," She said, leaning against him.

"Yes."

Yes. Only Squall Leonhart could respond to a cheerful 'good morning' with a yes. Still, at least he had said something.

"Whatcha working on?" She murmured in his ear, trying to make out the words on the screen through the haze of sleep in her eyes.

He absently scratched at his scar. "Deling. Haven't been able to find out which faction made the bid for it."

"Nobody knows?"

He shook his head, scrolling more text down the screen. Rinoa knew he would be behind the desk for at least another hour. She however, was hungry.

"I'm going down to the cafeteria," She said, walking towards the door. "Do you want anything?"

"Ate already," Squall mumbled, still staring at the screen. He gave a slight start when he realized he should probably be a little more polite to his love. "Thanks."

Rinoa smiled to herself on the way out. He was improving.

-

The cafeteria was half full when she reached it. For a school cafeteria, it actually wasn't that loud. Breakfast was usually fairly subdued as the students tried to wake up, it wasn't until lunch that things became raucous. She ordered a bagel and cream cheese, opting to take it back upstairs rather than eat at one of the tables.

On her way back to the elevator, she noticed Quistis taking roll call outside the Training Center. Another 'field trip' for the younger students to train up on Grats. Other than a small bandage adorning the side of her head, Quistis looked fine. Rinoa waved, walking up the stairs and Quistis smiled and nodded back. After all Quistis had been through over the last couple days Rinoa had thought Cid would have offered her the day off to rest and recuperate. Of course knowing Cid, he had, and knowing Quistis, she declined.

When she returned to the office Squall was still behind the desk, but instead of studying the screen he was shuffling papers, digging around in the contents of one of his many filing cabinets. Someday he would take the time to get it all computerized, but for now he was forced to flip through a filing system that became more random with each passing day. His frustration was apparent.

Rinoa sat on the edge of his desk, munching on her bagel while he continued to dig through files, his motions becoming increasingly fierce. He was about five seconds away from putting his boot through the cabinet when he found what he was looking for, a manila folder containing reports on known Galbadian revolutionaries. Rinoa finished her bagel and cleared her throat. Squall looked up at her.

"What did you say that man's name was again? Scott?"

"Scott Keyor." Squall was still deep in thought over his files but was attentive enough to spare her a glance.

"I think," She said, hesitating. "That me and him should talk. Where is he?"

Squall paused, sliding his chair over to the computer screen and keying in a query. The information scrolled onto the screen. "Room 63." He looked at her, concern apparent in his eyes. "Will you be okay?"

She nodded, twisting a strand of ebony hair in her fingers. "I can't sense him unless I'm trying. I just want to get the story straight from him, and maybe I can understand what's happening."

Squall doubted anyone could ever completely understand the present circumstances, but it was worth a try to see if Rinoa and Scott could fix whatever was causing her mental blackout. In regards to sending Scott home, he had already sent an inquiry to Esthar concerning Odine. He expected a call from Laguna within the next few days, a prospect he was not looking forward to. He never knew what to say to the man.

Rinoa left the office, crossing the commons and climbing the stairs to the men's dormitories. 45, 59, 61, and 63. She looked behind her at the digital wall clock that was omnipresent in all the dorms. 8:46. Worth a shot. She keyed the doorcom buzzer.

Scott was woken by a harsh buzzing noise that emanated from the wall somewhere to his left. It took him a moment to remember where he was, gazing blearily at the unfamiliar room. The loud buzzing permeated the room again, and he pushed himself up to his feet. Stumbling over to the doorcom, he stared at it for a second before remembering which button to press, the door sliding open to reveal… Nobody he recognized.

Rinoa studied the stranger's face. Shaggy dark blond hair hung in his eyes, stubble adorned his chin and there were several large bruises on his body. He didn't look like he was in good shape at the moment, but Rinoa could see that cleaned up he would cut a swathe through the Garden's female population. In fact, what struck her the most was the passing resemblance to Seifer, the thought briefly bringing a feeling of unease. Nobody would mistake him for the Knight, but it was there.

Scott crossed his arms over his chest uncomfortably, suddenly aware of his state of undress. The women before him was examining him, making him feel like he was on parade. He cleared his throat. "Uh yes... ma'am?"

"You're Scott Keyor?"

"I am, yeah."

Not much like Seifer at all. This guy actually seemed a little reserved.

"I'm Rinoa Heartilly. I thought it'd be good if I could come talk to you, maybe clear a few things up…"

Things started making a little more sense. She was the only one who didn't know everything about his situation. She was a sorceress. Oddly, she didn't look any different than anybody else. For some reason he had been expecting more.

"I see. Nice to meet you."

He almost winced. His social retardation picked the worst times to manifest itself. Usually around women.

Rinoa almost smiled. He seemed nervous. One of the others must of had told him about her. There were a few experiments she wanted to do, but she wanted everybody else to be there in case something went wrong. At the moment, she had just wanted to meet him face to face and see if there was some sort of reaction. He shifted on his feet, speaking again.

"I suppose you want me to tell a little about myself..."

Rinoa did smile this time. "Okay. Do you want to get dressed first?"

Scott gave a little jump when he once again realized he was still in his boxers. "Right, right. Um, you can come in. Well, I mean of course you can, it's your Garden or whatever... I'll go change."

He went into the bathroom, leaving the room door open so she could come in. There was some rustling from behind the door to the bathroom before it slid open and Scott stepped out, now attired in casual SeeD uniform. It was a bit tight around the collar, but it fit well enough. Rinoa sat on the edge of his bed, it being the only seat the room had to offer. Scott leaned against the wall. He blew out a breath, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, it all starts a couple years back. I was drafted from a select training program through the Army.."

-

Nida was first and foremost the Garden's pilot, more qualified than anyone else who lived under its roof to steer the ponderous vessel when in motion. At the moment however, the Garden was dry docked, so he was relegated to what he felt were lesser tasks. Sometimes these involved things like filing papers or the occasional mission, or maybe even library duty, which he didn't mind much anymore since he could hit on the attractive female staff. More often, they involved things like starting up the coffee machine on the command bridge. This particular morning, he had the chore of finding Zell Dincht and Selphie Tilmitt, who were missing. Squall wanted to put together a meeting of some sort that required their presence, so he had called upon the closest available SeeD to do the job. Nida, filling the coffee machine.

So far he had stopped by their respective dorms, the Training Center, the secret area in the Training Center, the Cafeteria, the Library, the Quad, the Garage, and even the Infirmary. Now he was roaming the upper level classroom halls for some sign of them, with absolutely no success, and silently praying they weren't to be found in the MD level.

It was on yet another lap around an upper story hall that a light fixture above him popped loose, dangling slightly out of its position. He frowned. Some days it seemed like the place was falling apart. He jumped up, trying to push it back into place, but couldn't reach. Well, he didn't have the rank of Level 28 SeeD for nothing. Backing up slightly, he went into a running start, jumped off of the wall and with a tremendous and probably melodramatic '_Hi-ya!_', took out his frustrations on the fixture by kicking it back into place.

"_AAAAGH! FUCK! MY FUCKING FINGERS!_"

The ceiling shook as more violent cursing echoed down, immediately following which a steaming mad Zell Dincht jumped through the hole where the light used to be, cradling his battered hand to his chest and threatening Nida with the other.

"Oh Hyne! What the hell man, you 'bout took my fucking fingers off!"

Nida held out his hands, trying to placate him. "Now, let's not be hasty here," He stuttered nervously. "How was I supposed to know you'd be up in the ceiling?"

Zell's glare softened somewhat as the logic of this sunk in. He snorted, backing off a little. "Yeah whatever. Just next time, don't be kicking no more lights until you're sure somebody's not holding it, alright?"

Nida was pretty sure he wouldn't be in another situation like this. "Right, right. It's cool."

By this time Selphie had lowered herself down too, coming up behind Zell. "Let me see those fingers."

Zell them out towards her, the ring of skin around his knuckles already turning a dark purple.

"Cura!" Selphie said, the magic sending glowing sparks around Zell's hand. The purple receded, leaving only a faint yellow tinge to the skin. "There we go."

Zell grinned and kissed her, and they went off down the hallway hand in hand. Nida stood there, now by himself. Zell and Selphie, kissing? Up in the ceiling all night? Holding hands?He was sure nobody would bother to explain anything to him. He sighed, looking up at the light fixture, still swinging free. He figured he might as well put it back into place before someone told him to.

-

They were all gathered in Squall's office, sitting on various chairs and couches. Zell and Selphie sat together on a couch by the door. Everyone was looking at them askance, not quite sure what to make of it. Irvine was fairly uncomfortable. Sure, she wasn't his girlfriend anymore, but it would take some getting used to seeing her with someone else, especially Zell. Squall surprised himself by not being surprised. Rinoa was rubbing off on him more than he had thought.

Squall kicked it off by nodding to Quistis, letting her do the talking as per usual.

"Scott," She began. "Why don't you go over your story again, just so everything is fresh in our minds."

So, taking a deep breath and thinking about how much he was sick of telling his story, he launched into it again. It was a rather long story, and this time he added even more detail, in case there was an important piece he had missed telling the previous times. It was almost noon by the time he had finished and everyone had asked whatever questions were on their minds.

Quistis had one more question. "So nobody else came through the portal? There weren't any other experiments?"

Scott shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. The portal collapsed behind me, and I used to think that was the only one, but now... I realize there could have been more. I don't know though, the whole operation seemed like a first time thing to me, they were winging a lot of it."

"And you still went through the portal?" Irvine asked incredulously.

"They paid me a lot of money."

"Must have been."

Zell raised his hand. Everyone looked at him, and he put it down sheepishly. "Uh, do you have hotdogs where you come from?"

Squall put a hand to his forehead, Selphie and Rinoa giggled, Irvine laughed and Quistis rolled her eyes. Scott didn't get the joke any further than that it was a strange thing to ask about.

"Yeah, we've got those." _Oh, I wish I were an Oscar Meyer Wiener..._

Quistis looked to the clock on Squall's wall. "Speaking of which, I think we should adjourn for now and go to lunch."

"Right on!" Zell exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He was out the door with Selphie before Squall actually said it was okay. Squall shook his head, getting up.

"Adjourned for now."

Rinoa and Squall were the last to leave the office, tagging along behind Irvine and Quistis who were discussing something or the other. Scott was already out of sight, probably trying to catch up to Zell and Selphie so he could find the cafeteria. Rinoa slipped her hand into his, giving it a squeeze. Squall still felt a little uncomfortable with public displays of affection, but it wasn't worth it to remove his hand. Anyway, he figured he better get used to it.

The cafeteria was becoming crowded by the time they reached it, but their usual table was empty. Officially speaking it wasn't actually reserved, but nobody was going to steal the table of those particular SeeDs. It might be unhealthy.

By the time Squall and Rinoa sat down, Zell and Selphie already had their food and had made room for Scott on the end. Irvine was just sitting down and Quistis was at the front of the line after several of the Trepies had let her cut. As Commander, Squall probably didn't have to bother waiting in line, but he did anyway. Rinoa turned to him.

"You can go sit down," She said, smiling brightly. "I'll get our food today. I think it's my turn anyway."

Squall's eyes narrowed, attempting to detect subterfuge. Usually she would dodge her line-standing turn. Detecting none, he shrugged and sat down. Rinoa smiled to herself. She was buttering him up so he'd be more amenable to getting of work earlier to spend the evening with her.

Slowly but surely, the line moved forward and she soon found herself at the front ordering the usual. While waiting for her order to be processed, she moved to the side of the line and bumped into a friend she had made in one of her classes, Michelle Kliner. She was obviously excited about something.

"Rinoa!" She said excitedly.

Rinoa smiled, clasping her in a quick hug. " Hey Michelle."

Michelle went straight to the point. "Tall blonde and handsome, over at your table. Who is he?"

"Oh, you mean Scott. He's... From Galbadia Garden, a transfer."

Oops.Scott probably didn't know enough about the Gardens to accurately fake being a transfer student. But the way Michelle was checking him out, asking questions was the last thing on her mind. Rinoa was a little surprised, Michelle wasn't usually so aggressive.

"Oh, does he have a girlfriend?" Michelle pouted, taking Rinoa's silence the wrong way.

"I, uh..."

She didn't know enough about Scott to know whether or not he would want the attention. _Did_ he have a girlfriend?

"Hold on," Rinoa said. "Let me see if I can set you up."

She walked over to the table, sitting down and pretending to wait for her order. She turned to Scott.

"Scott," She started. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

He frowned at her. The way she said it made it clear she wasn't hitting on him, and with Squall right there he didn't want her to. "Uh, no."

"Married?"

"No."

"Oh. Just trying to get to know you better."

"Okay." Fairly numbed by his experiences, Scott took the bizarre conversation in stride.

She stood up again, walking back over to the counter. "He doesn't have a girlfriend."

"He's married isn't he?"

"Nope."

"Gay?"

"What in the world makes you think that?" Rinoa said, staring at Michelle.

"Just covering all the angles, Rinoa. Besides, if a guy like that isn't married or taken he's probably gay."

"You're just making that up."

"Wanna bet?"

Rinoa sighed. "No, I don't want to bet. If you want to talk to him, just do it."

"I can't just go up to him! Introduce me."

"I need to wait for my food, hold on." Rinoa wasn't sure she was up to the task of playing matchmaker, but considering Scott's circumstances she couldn't imagine anything would come of it.

Her food arrived shortly, and she carried the steaming tray back over to the table with Michelle in tow. She took her seat next to Squall, and Michelle sat next to her, facing Scott. Rinoa put Squall's food in front of him, then leaned over the table so Scott could hear her.

"This is a friend of mine, Michelle." Rinoa said, trying to modulate her voice enough to be heard over the dull roar of the cafeteria. "Michelle, this is Scott Keyor, from Galbadia Garden." Scott shot her a look which she apologetically returned.

Michelle turned on the charm, flashing him her best smile, pleased to notice that it had an effect on Scott after all. He hesitantly smiled back, averting his eyes. He had never been good with women. The military didn't leave much time for personal life.

Rinoa spent most of the rest of lunch focused on Squall, occasionally turning her attention to Michelle's shameless flirting. She plied Scott with all the usual questions about age and whether or not he liked it at Balamb Garden. So far there hadn't been any questions about Galbadia Garden, and Scott steered the conversation from such subjects by asking questions about her. Really, he just wanted her to go away. She was trying really hard to get him to like her, and she seemed nice enough, but the joke was on her- he wasn't going to be around long enough to get into any sort of relationship. Horribly, he wondered if that joke was in fact on him.

After about ten minutes, Rinoa took pity on him. She leaned over to Squall and whispered something in his ear. He looked at her quizzically, one eyebrow raised.

_Please,_ She mouthed.

He rolled his eyes and set his fork down. Clearing his throat, he turned to Michelle and Scott.

"Keyor," He said, getting Scott's attention. "We have some matters to discuss." He looked pointedly at Michelle. She took the hint, and left with a small smile and a 'See you later.'. Scott breathed a sigh of relief, giving Squall a look of thanks. He shrugged and indicated Rinoa with his head, going back to eating. Rinoa grinned at him, cocking her head to the side.

"Well," She asked impishly. "What do you think of her?"

Scott put his head on his arms, already full. "She's nice enough I guess, but I don't think a long distance relationship would be possible over dimensions."

Zell stopped stuffing his face with hotdogs long enough to break into the conversation. "Hey, that's too bad man, since half the chicks in here are checking you out. Fresh blood I guess. You're the new guy."

Scott raised his head to verify this. Sure enough, wherever his gaze traversed female heads quickly swiveled away, while the braver ones stared back at him, giggling amongst themselves. He sighed. If only this was happening back at home. Then he could... Could what? He knew he was fooling himself if he thought he would take advantage of their attraction to him even if he was in familiar settings. There was no way he could ever work up the self-confidence to ask any of them out. _Lousy brain._ _Cramping my style._

Well, at least the food had been pretty good. By this time, everyone had finished but Zell, and were talking about whatever. He just listened since he didn't know enough about anything to converse. Rinoa was talking to Selphie about her sudden relationship with Zell.

"So when did this happen?" Rinoa asked, eyeing the couple. "It's only been a few days since I last saw you, and Zell was just your friend."

Selphie giggled, giving Zell's hand a squeeze. "Just last night, but it's been a long time in coming. We just didn't realize it sooner."

Rinoa leaned in conspiratorially. "So what, you guys were in the secret area?"

Selphie put on an arch expression, leaning back. "Oh, I have my own secret area. And I'm not telling!"

"You guys were alone all night?" Rinoa's eyebrows shot up, a smile spreading across her face.

Zell determinedly continued stuffing his face with food, avoiding the conversation and all eye contact. Selphie inwardly cursed her fair physique that made the blush suffusing her cheeks that much more obvious.

Rinoa's smile widened, and Selphie became more flustered.

Selphie narrowed her eyes. "I know a certain Sorceress who was with a certain Commander last night, and I could hear you downstairs doing a certain-"

"Okay! Okay!" Rinoa gasped, putting her hand over Selphie's mouth. "Let's talk about something else."

Scott didn't want to know. Zell was too full to talk, and from the look Squall was giving a grinning Irvine, their conversation had run along the same lines as Rinoa and Selphie's. This was very nice of them and all to include him, but he was more interested in knowing exactly how he could go home, and socializing at lunch wasn't getting him any closer to his goal. Putting his head back down on his arms, he closed his eyes and tried to doze away the remaining time.

-

The man had been found in during a bit of browsing Hendrow had been doing through some random government files, trying to familiarize himself with the state of the country. The name had jumped out at him from the paper, instantly recognizable. He had brought it to Julian's attention immediately.

The files eventually led them to his present whereabouts, a prisoner in the D-District facility. Besides his name and location, nothing else had been found. Everything about the man in the public databases had been erased at some point. There was no doubt in Hendrow's mind that this man had been left to rot. But he was useful to them for purposes Julian had conceived, and Julian Foss never let an opportunity go to waste.

It was in this fashion, handcuffed and chained, that Seifer Almasy was brought before the desk of Julian Foss.

The man before Julian was not the arrogant young SeeD trainee that the game and book had portrayed. The man before him was a broken man, dressed in the pitiful remains of a trenchcoat, unshaven, undernourished, with only a faint spark in his eye to show that he had any spirit left in him. This was a man who might be desperate enough for freedom to give Julian what he wanted.

Seifer was unsure what to make of his situation. He had fully expected to die in the prison, killed in some minor riot or executed at some officer's whim. Now he was brought before a man he had never seen before sitting in what had been the office of the former ruler of Galbadia. Seifer glared at him, hoping to take some pleasure in intimidating another weak-chinned politician. To his surprise, the man stared fearlessly back with a quiet yet cold gaze of his own.

"Seifer Almasy," Julian began. "Former resident of Balamb Garden, SeeD in training... Sorceress Knight..."

"Oh, thanks," Seifer snarled. "'Cause, see, I had forgotten who I was for some reason and I needed you to tell me. Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want?"

"Temper, Mr. Almasy, will get you nowhere. I brought you here because I wanted to meet you, to make the acquaintance of a man who has affected the course of this world so much. And because I would like to ask a favor of you."

Seifer was becoming angrier. This soft-spoken fat bastard dragged him out here in chains, and then expected a favor from him? "Listen you fat fuck, I can't imagine why the hell you think I owe you anything since you bastards threw me into jail without a trial. 'Oh, thanks so much for the prison term, I love getting butt-fucked in the shower while the warden takes pictures.' Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Mr. Almasy, I had nothing to do with your incarceration. I think you misunderstand my intentions. I am trying to help you."

"Yeah? Why?"

"Because you can help me."

"And what do I get out of it?"

"Your freedom."

As Julian had suspected, Seifer calmed down, now assessing his opponent with more intelligence. He wanted to be free, and badly.

"What do you want?"

Julian smiled, motioning for Hendrow to pull up a chair. Seifer sat down, the guards coming in further to stand behind it. Julian leaned forward slightly, tenting his hands. "I am... New, to this area. My path to power was sudden, and there are many who are unaware of my current standing. I will cut to the point. I would like you to be my envoy to Balamb Garden, and extend my offer of peace towards them. These are turbulent times, Mr. Almasy, and there is no gain in having uncertain relations with one's neighbors."

Seifer laughed incredulously. "What, that's it? The terms of service?"

"Yes. Your freedom is part of the offering. I am extending my hand in peace, and returning one of their own to them. As further proof of my intention, you will also be making a delivery."

"After I'm free, what the hell makes you think I'll go where you want me to?"

"You will go to Balamb Garden whether I told you to or not, because you have no place else to go."

Seifer was silent as the truth of this hit him. Julian continued.

"After you leave the country, you will not be welcome back here. Right now, only I know of your presence. If the Galbadian people find out, they will want you dead."

"You're not Galbadian." It wasn't a question.

Julian did not reply. "What will it be?"

"What am I going to deliver, a fucking box of chocolates?"

"This."

Julian bent down and with both hands lifted an object up onto the desk. It took Seifer a minute to realize what it was. _Lionheart._ Squall's ultimate gunblade. The implication of this struck him like a hammer. He could feel his mouth drop open, but he didn't care. Squall was dead. He didn't know how to deal with the emotions that surged through him. Shouldn't he be happy? He had never liked Squall. But they had grown up together. He had been a rival, worthy competition. He could have been a friend. Julian gestured for Hendrow to move aside, revealing the assortment of items that were lying on the floor behind him. Selphie's nunchukas, Irvine's shotgun, and Quistis's whip. It hit him harder than he could ever have imagined. They had been enemies, but before that they had been comrades and family, they had been something more.

They had been all he had ever had.

He didn't know, but whatever it was, it sent a crippling sadness through him, quickly followed by his body's only defense against such emotion- white-hot rage.

"_YOU SON OF A BITCH! I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!_" Seifer screamed, leaping forward out of the chair, hands outstretched to throttle the life out of the focus of his anger. The guards quickly pulled the chains taught, yanking him back into the chair and sending it falling over backwards. One of the guards kicked him in the ribs, forcing the breath out of his lungs as the other pointed a gun at his head, foot on his throat. Hendrow had jumped back in alarm, but Julian hadn't flinched.

"Please Mr. Almasy. Calm yourself."

The guards flipped the chair back up and forced him to sit in it, gun still to his head. He was shaking with rage, his eyes full of seething hate, glaring at Julian. Julian was not perturbed. He gazed calmly back, waiting for Seifer to settle.

"Mr. Almasy, I had nothing to do with whatever fate befell the SeeDs. Now, your freedom is at stake here. Control your outbursts and make yourself useful, and you will be in Balamb by tomorrow. I'll even throw in your weapon as a bonus. You'll need to do a little cleanup I'm afraid, it's been sitting in a rather damp basement."

Seifer wanted to spit in his face. But he also didn't want to go back and die in prison.

With little choice, Seifer assented.

Three hours later, Seifer found himself on the outskirts of Deling, the assorted weapons in a sack over his shoulder. He felt a physical need to remove himself from the country as quickly as possible. Starting up the vehicle Julian had given him, he sped off in the direction of Timber, where he could board a boat.

Julian and Hendrow watched the faint dust trail of the car recede out into the plains from the top of the wall. Julian smiled to himself. Someday soon the time would arrive to strike at Garden, and all the better it should come unexpected. The peace overture was a sham, but it would serve to mask his true intentions until the time was right.

Finally Seifer's vehicle was beyond his view, and Julian turned to Hendrow.

"Let us return, Michael. It would interest me to see what sort of television they watch here in Deling."


	17. Subitaneous Arrival

_"Whenever I think about Garden, it always strikes me as odd that such an installation could be accepted at face value. But we did. A gigantic school founded for the single purpose of molding young children into mercenaries. It turned out to be a facade, but what does it say about a world that never questioned such a thing?"_

-Quistis Trepe, _What's Hyne Got To Do With It?_

Like the night that had come before, Balamb Garden was sleeping, the faint gurgle and deep hum always present in the great structure the only noise. But unlike the previous night, Scott Keyor was the one who roamed about the tiled floors like a ghost, a sleepless soul in search of nothing.

He had been unable to sleep. The meeting that evening had not given him much to hope for. It had been made apparent that no one present could help him achieve his goal of returning back to his native dimension. The others repeatedly referred to an 'Odine' who was the most likely person to be able to help him, but he resided in another country and they had yet to reach him.

He wasn't sure what time it was. He hadn't looked at a clock since he had left his room what felt like hours before. He sighed. There was no point in wearing down his shoes for no reason, he should at least try to sleep again. Still, he had to admit that there was something strangely comforting about the Garden at night, a sense of security that felt strange in a large dimly light room that should have been creepy.

He slowly made his way back to the staircases, pausing by one of the fountains to look down into it, watching the bubbles rise to the surface. He couldn't get over how fancy this place was for a military academy. When he reached the stairs, he stopped, hidden in the shadows when he saw someone else coming down the girls dormitory steps. His nerves kicked in. What if it was a teacher? Would they bust his ass for being out past curfew, or would it not matter since he wasn't a student?

It all became a moot point when the shadowy figure in question turned out to be Selphie. She moved quietly and with extreme stealth, obviously utilizing her training. She disappeared up the staircase into the men's dormitories. Scott figured he knew exactly where she was going, and it wasn't any of his business. He was relaxing a little bit when yet another unknown came out of the shadows to his right. He gave a tremendous start, barely stifling a yelp. He saw the other person do the same. It was Nida.

"Holy shit," Nida gasped, leaning against the wall. "You just about killed me. What the hell are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same."

Nida shrugged, pushing himself back up. "Hey, I'm legit. I was over fixing one of the Training Center doors. Some wise ass stuck a bunch of sticky tack in the lock."

Scott decided he knew Nida enough by now not to be tactful. "I thought you were a SeeD. What's with the janitorial work?"

Nida shrugged again. "I have no idea. This stuff just always seems to fall to me. Squall hands off these odd jobs, usually while staring at some stack of papers, and of course I'm the only guy near by not conspicuously doing something important." He sighed. "If I'm not piloting, I'm being ignored. I've learned to live with it."

Scott knew the feeling. He had been a late bloomer in High School, one of the scrawny little kids who always ended getting seated next to the teachers desk and was told to run papers to the office. He had graduated in three years, all of them spent in obscurity. He hadn't been picked on, but he hadn't made many friends either.

"Hey, that sucks man."

"It's not so bad. I still get sent on missions sometimes, and I'm lucky to count Squall and the rest of them as my friends. Between you and me, it really helps my status with the ladies. Before I really was totally ignored, now at least I can bask in their reflected glory."

Scott laughed, cutting it off when he realized where he was, sending a darting glance towards the closed dorm doors closest to them. Nothing moved. He sighed in relief, turning back to Nida.

"That's cool. I suppose being the friend of heroes would get you some female attention."

"You're not so bad yourself, I saw all the looks you were getting in the Cafeteria today."

"Well, I can't really get involved."

Nida looked at him thoughtfully, reminded that he had never heard the full story on Scott. He filed it away once more for another time. "That's too bad, since this is the place to get involved in."

Scott nodded in complete agreement. "No kidding man. I haven't seen an unattractive girl here yet. It's amazing."

Nida smiled, raising his eyebrows. "That's what's great about living in a school that emphasizes on combat. No fat chicks."

Scott snorted, covering his mouth with his arm to keep from making noise. "Amen."

With that, they went upstairs together, quietly cracking jokes. They split up on the second floor, Nida's dorm being on the fourth. Scott keyed open his door and lay down in bed, finally succumbing to sleep.

Morning dawned on the Garden, the sun dispelling the shadows of the night before. It seeped through the blinds of Quistis's room, falling softly on her luminous features. The Garden had once housed morning bells, now a thing of the past after it's sudden transformation. They had been broken in the collision with Fisherman's Horizon, and now lay gathering dust in some storage room deep in the MD level. As such, she could no longer rely on the bells to wake her and had to resort to the crude screech of a digital alarm clock. It emitted said screech at precisely 6:15, which was fast approaching.

The alarm was superfluous since she was already awake, having been so for several minutes.

Another day at Garden. Another class to teach. More tests to grade, more students to send to detention. Another meaningless day at Garden.

This was why she wanted to go on missions, because it was so much easier to believe her life meant something when she was doing something important. When she was making a difference. When she was too concentrated on completing the objective at hand to think about her life. She hated being alone like this in her room, hated the self-pitying thoughts that sprang unbidden in her mind. _Get up and do something Quistis. People will be counting on you today._

She needed a vacation, she needed a different job, a different existence, a different life. She didn't know what she needed. Well, whatever it was, she wasn't going to find it laying in bed.

While Quistis prepared for the morning ahead, someone else not too far away did the same under very different circumstances. Seifer had been on the boat most of the previous day, and now he faced the task of lugging his load the rest of the way on foot. He could see the Garden in the distance, the just risen sun giving the dome a glittery sheen. There was no way he could just walk in the front entrance, too many people would know who he was. In fact, now that he was almost near his destination, he realized he had no idea how to go about doing what he was about to do. It would be of the utmost idiocy to waltz in carrying the weapons of the dead commander and his friends. They could and probably would blame him anyway, the last thing he needed to do was to provide evidence. The only people who wouldn't attempt to kill him on sight were Cid and Edea. Top floor, the three windows near the peak if he remembered correctly. He would have to wait for nightfall. But then again, if he broke into their room in the dark, it would look even worse. He would have to somehow scale the side of the Garden unseen in the middle of the day, carrying several hundred pounds in equipment up the almost sheer walls, and then break through the bulletproof windows into Cid's office without making too much noise. Seifer looked at the Garden, looked at the bag he was carrying, and looked back at the Garden.

Ten minutes later, Seifer walked in through the front entrance. The SeeD manning the gate gazed up from his magazine and did a double take.

"Holy shi-"

The SeeD dived back down behind the counter and slammed on the alarm.

-

The alarm jolted Squall out of his paper work stupor, sudden adrenaline coursing through his veins. He knew it wasn't a drill, he hadn't planned a drill. He quickly moved from his chair to the row of security monitors that lined one of the walls. The monitors had little LED lights on their sides to indicate which camera was closest to the alarm that had been trigger. The only monitor flashing was the one overlooking the entryway, and via its colorless lens he could see a lone figure attempting to fend off several students with a gunblade. Like lighting, recognition shot through him. _Seifer._

He assumed the worst. If Seifer was indeed attacking the Garden, there was no guarantee he would be by himself. Squall pulled his gunblade from his sheath and ran for the elevator. Another thought made his blood run cold. Rinoa had gone down to the cafeteria as per her usual schedule. Rinoa was down there with him. Fear gripping his heart, Squall ran faster.

Seifer knew he had overestimated his own stamina. He was quickly tiring, trying to fend off several trainees while protecting his precious luggage, now stashed behind the counter of the stall, and more students were gathering every second. The instructors had evacuated the younger kids from the area, and everybody else seemed to be waiting for something. Fools. If they all attacked at once they could take him down, but they hesitated, waiting for someone to take charge. What if he had been at full strength with the actual intent to cause some damage? They would not have stood a chance, not with their best fighters and leaders dead. Well, not if he had been at full strength anyway.

"Back off!" He snarled at the nearest SeeD, clumsily swinging his gunblade to ward her off. He looked straight into her eyes and tried to reason through the fear he saw there. "I need to see Cid, I don't want to hurt you!"

A javelin was thrown from somewhere in the back and he barely dodged it, sweeping his blade up to cut it in half. It would only be a matter of minutes until someone scored a hit, possibly a fatal one. It was at that moment that Seifer was distracted by a ghost.

Squall Leonhart came barreling out of the elevator with a gunblade in hand and murder in his eyes. Seifer froze, utterly confused at the scene before him. The students surrounding him melted away, and then before he could even draw breath, Squall was on him.

He barely blocked the first blow, sparks igniting at the contact, both blades sliding away to bite into the floor. He tried to back away but was too slow, and before he could raise Hyperion again Squall had kicked him in the gut, sending him sprawling backwards. The kicked was followed by a lethal downward swing. He could feel the metal brush the top of his hair as he pulled himself towards Squall with his feet, just removing his head from the impact. Squall jumped to one side and used Seifer's position under his legs to deliver another kick to the former Knight's side, sending him crashing into the counter.

In desperation, Seifer used most of his strength in a leap over the counter, Squall's gunblade carving a deep slice were his legs had been. He was out of shape and taken by surprise, dragged down by fatigue and atrophied skills. He didn't stand a chance and he knew it. He painfully crashed to the floor on the other side of the stall and rolled over, one hand grasping into the bag. His hand found the hilt of the Lionheart just as Squall was halfway over the counter. Out of time, Seifer held the Lionheart at his chest, waiting for the end he knew was coming. There was the sound of Squall's feet hitting the floor, the all too familiar swish of a gunblade, and then... Nothing.

Seifer lay perfectly still, the point of Squall's blade tickling his throat, length of the sword resting on the Lionheart. Squall's gaze was fixed on it, confusion plainly stamped across his features. A voice broke the standstill. A familiar voice.

"Squall!"

Rinoa came running, Zell, Selphie, Quistis and Irvine in tow. The sea of students parted to allow them through. Slowly, Squall backed away from Seifer, business end of the gunblade still pointed carefully at his enemy's head.

The group reached the stall and froze in disbelief at the scene before them, at someone they had never expected to see again. Everyone but Zell. Rage lit up his features, and it was almost as if he had expected something like this to happen.

"_SEIFER!_" He roared, clearing the counter in a single jump. Quick as lighting, he brought up his fist to strike a blow to Seifer's head.

"Zell, no!" Rinoa cried out, stopping the martial artist from carrying out his intentions. Zell slowly backed away, sliding back over the counter, still fuming. Selphie tentatively gripped his hand soothingly, trying to calm him down.

Seifer sat up and everyone jumped, leveling their weapons at him. He held up his hands, wiggling his fingers in a mocking fashion to show he wasn't armed. He looked at Squall, who was still fixated on the Lionheart, unable to understand its presence. Scott stood in the back, trying to see over the heads of the gathered students and wondering what was going on.

"That's gratitude," Seifer grunted, trying to ignore the pain that was just now beginning to register in his system. A few cracked ribs, at least. "I bring you back your shit and you kick the crap out of me. Yeah, go ahead and let Dincht hit me, I'll just keep these."

Seifer reached back and opened the bag, spilling its contents on the floor. The SeeDs' eyes widened at the rest of their weapons. Even the present situation couldn't stop Selphie from letting loose a squeal at the sight of her Strange Vision. Zell only turned redder.

"Where the fuck did you get those!"

"If you answer, 'Why the fuck aren't you dead', I might know why the fuck I have these."

Zell opened his mouth for what was sure to be some angry retort but Quistis held him back, placing a hand on his arm. She looked around at all the gathered students, staring at the confrontation, whispering amongst themselves. She motioned to Squall. "Your office would be a better place, I think."

He nodded. Nudging Hyperion out of Seifer's reach, he bent down and warily helped him to his feet, eyes carefully gauging the blond man's state. He let go of his arm as soon as Seifer was standing, backing away with Lionheart now in hand. The rest of the SeeDs quickly recovered their weapons and surrounded the two. Squall opened the gate leading out of the stall. Forming a circle around the battered Seifer, they walked to the elevator, parting the students again. While the others escorted their somewhat willing prisoner to the top floor, Quistis dropped behind to send all of the students back to their classes, trying to restore some order. Reluctantly, the crowd dispersed, leaving Scott standing with Nida at the foot of the stairs. Quistis smiled apologetically at Scott.

"I'm sorry, this is SeeD business, so..."

"Oh, no, it's cool," Scott said, passing it off with a wave of his hand. "Nida was going to show me the MD level anyway."

"All right then. Be careful though, and stay away from the turbines."

With that, she too went up the elevator. Scott turned to Nida, noting the fading anger in his eyes. Apparently he had some issue with whoever that had been too. Although the blond guy had looked familiar... He was distracted from this line of thought when Nida seemed to shrug off whatever was bothering him, leaving it to Squall to handle things. He smiled at Scott.

"It's pretty cool down there man, you can go swimming in the tanks since there's always some water in them. The tanks are freaking huge."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't that be a little dangerous if they happen to dump the fountains? I think having several tons of water fall on top of you might be a little damaging."

"Don't worry about it, we only do that while airborne, and besides, an alarm goes off first. Come on, let's go."

-

Seifer was careful not to let his feelings show on his face. He was surrounded by people he had assumed to be dead. Obviously, this assumption had been false. He looked at all of them, the tension clearly affecting each. Zell was being held back by Selphie who was trying to soothe him. The chicken-wuss and Selphie? Pointedly, he sent a glance at both of them, looking back and forth between them before letting out a low chuckle. Zell tensed up, face coloring, but Selphie only gave his hand a squeeze, sticking her tongue out at Seifer. Over in the other corner Rinoa was doing the same thing for Squall, albeit much less noticeably. Squall had always had much more self-control than Zell. Irvine was the most relaxed of all of them, hat drooping halfway over his eyes. He met Seifer's gaze with a steady one of his own, nodding his head slightly as if in recognition.

The elevator doors slid open, and Seifer was walked into Squall's office and seated in a chair across from the desk. Zell and Selphie sat to his right, Irvine to his left. Squall sat behind his desk with Rinoa standing behind him. Seifer hid a smile. The evil Overlord with his right-hand babe, a movie cliché come to life. Fucking pathetic.

There was silence until Quistis arrived moments later, standing to the other side of Squall, completing the picture. He was unable to read the look in her eyes, so he winked at her, noting with pleasure the total lack of response. Cold as ever.

Squall started the dialogue with his usual manner. "Where did you get the weapons?"

Seifer leaned back, faking a thoughtful look. "Well you know Squall, I'm not quite sure. Maybe five bucks would refresh my memory..."

No reaction. Seifer sighed, shaking his head at Squall. "All this time and still no sense of humor. Rinoa, I'm disappointed in you. I figured if anything some hot sex would-"

"Shut up!" Zell snarled, half out of his chair. "He asked you a fucking question!"

Seifer frowned, studying him not with contempt, but with genuine curiosity. Had chicken-wuss grown a spine? He tried staring Zell down, but Zell stared back with even more fury. Interesting. He decided to dispense with the mocking attitude... For now. He shrugged.

"The new rulers of Deling. They wanted me to bring them back."

Squall frowned. "Why?"

"The fat man said it was a peace offering. Sorry, but he didn't tell me his top secret plans so I could relate them back to you verbatim. I thought you were dead, didn't know you could ever drag yourself more than ten feet away from your sword Leonhart."

"Adverse circumstances."

"Oh, I see, those two words just explain everything. Will somebody who can actually talk do so?"

Rinoa had always been insightful, and her new powers only enhanced the natural cognitive abilities she had. Seifer might be acting like his old self, but looking into his eyes she could tell it was all show. He was worn, inside and out. Just a shadow of the arrogant young man he had been. She opened her mouth and cut into the conversation.

"Where were you?"

"What?"

"Where were you when they asked for your help?"

Seifer leaned forward. "They didn't _ask_ for my help, they demanded it. He said I was supposed to return the weaponry as a peace offering, I was going to bring it to Cid."

Zell snorted. "In Deling doing what, sleeping in dumpsters? You look like shit Almasy."

"So do you, and you've been showering every morning. Probably with Squa-"

"Stop it, both of you," Quistis broke in, walking over to stand between them. "It's not important where he was, but what he knows."

Seifer raised an eyebrow. Quistis, defending him? Some sort of residual teacher instinct kicking in no doubt. "Hey, I brought back your stuff, and I know things about Deling. You don't get something for nothing."

"Then what do you want?" Squall asked quietly.

What did he want? What _did_ he want? _I want to change the last few years, I want a rewind on all the shit that went wrong, I want to go away and hide for the rest of my life. I want, I want... Oh hell, I want-_

"A second chance."

-

Several days had passed, and the Agent still wasn't getting any closer to the truth. He was wandering the deserted halls late at night under the pretense of searching for the bathroom, the location of which he was well aware of, but it was hard enough to find that he wouldn't draw any undue suspicion.

He needed papers. He needed video, computer files, anything. He needed _evidence_. And that was in short supply. The GPSS files had told him all they could and were now useless unless he could find the unedited version. When he had first arrived it had seemed like the clock was ticking, they had been gearing up towards something, men and machinery coming and going, research moving at a frantic pace. Then one day the crowds had disappeared and things had gone quiet around the base. Whatever had been going to happen had, and he had been too late to stop it.

He might not have a second chance.

-

The six had gathered in Squall and Rinoa's room adjoining his office, sitting on various chairs or the bed. Only Zell stood, pacing back and forth in front of the window. Seifer was under guard in the Headmaster's office, awaiting the decision. Squall knew that technically the choice was his and Cid's to make, but he felt the others deserved some say after all that had happened. Zell was the first to speak.

"No," He said, arms crossing across his chest. "_No_."

"Zell-" Rinoa started.

"No _goddamn_ way. Not after what he did. Not anymore. _No_."

"Give us the chance to talk this out before you-"

"How can you even _think_ it Rinoa? Remember Adel? Remember that shit he tried to do to you? And now you want to let him the fuck back in!"

"I didn't say that Zell."

"Yeah, well, I did. And the answer is no, and if your smart that's what you'll say too."

Squall sighed. He didn't know what to think. Most of him agreed with Zell, but he could tell at least Selphie and Rinoa and probably Irvine too were willing to at least give him a chance. Quistis seemed impassive, but he knew her well enough to see that the wheels were turning. Her decision would be a mystery to him. Seifer did not seem all that repentant though, and it wasn't weighing in his favor.

It was then that Edea walked into the room, her presence a breath of fresh air, a comforting feeling of security. She was their mother, and they all loved her. Whatever she had to say would be listened to well.

Edea delicately sat in a chair by Zell, placing a calming hand on his arm. The effect was immediate, and Zell stopped pacing, sitting on the floor next to her. Edea was still beautiful, face only barely lined from the passing of years.

She looked at all of them. How far they had all come, how much they had grown.

Squall, always the silent one, so bitter so young. But even now he was changing for the better. Just the day before she had seen him smile at something Zell had said, and she rejoiced that at last he could be happy.

Irvine, more complicated than most gave him credit for. Ladies man, sharpshooter, philosopher. He had brought the group back together when they had all forgotten, himself once more an integral part of the tight knit friends. They were all held together by bonds more profound than they could imagine, and he was one of them.

Selphie, the sunshine and laughter. They could count on her during their darkest hour to be the light that led the way, no matter what it cost herself. Edea wished that she could forever be so bright without cost.

Zell, such a firebrand, always so loud and outspoken. But Edea had seen the loneliness that had been hidden behind the facade, and she was glad to see Selphie by his side, to be a calming Yin to his raging Yang.

Quistis, still the leader even when she didn't realize it. Squall had been forced to lead by circumstance, Quistis took responsibility without thought to protect her family. Now she hid behind that responsibility from a life that held no meaning besides her friends, and Edea hoped that she found something to bring her happiness soon.

Rinoa had not been in the Orphanage, but Edea felt that she knew her as well as the others. She had become one of them, and despite her pampered childhood events of the recent past had left her as much of a hardened warrior as any in the room. She was the supports that held up Squall, the other half of him. It was good she was here now, for he would need her to make the right choice.

And they were all here to decide the fate of her last child, Seifer. She had come to tell them what they needed to hear to make the right decision, before they condemned him without knowing enough.

She sighed, ready to defend him just as she would the rest of them. "I came here to ask you to give Seifer a second chance."

Nobody was surprised, but Zell clenched his fists, willing himself to be impervious to whatever she had to say.

"You hate Seifer because you believe he betrayed you all," Edea said, making eye contact with all of them. "You all suffered at his hands, but no one suffered more than him."

"So he spent a few bad months in Deling," Zell grunted, not looking up. "And that just makes it all better?"

"Seifer betrayed himself and was unable to stop. He was controlled Zell, every step of the way. I..." She stopped, blinking for a minute. Only the passage of time would cleanse the burning memories. "Ultimecia, twisted his sense of valor, his desire to protect, to be a Knight to her own purposes. He does not remember much of what has occurred, he... Does not know of Trabia or what happened between Rinoa and Adel."

Nobody questioned Edea's knowledge of this, even without powers she could see things others could not. What Edea said only confirmed what Rinoa had suspected all along. Seifer had always been too ambitious for his own good, but never evil. She and everyone else also understood the unspoken request not to tell him, at least not yet.

Zell put his face in his hands, knowing what was coming. Seifer may have been controlled, but that didn't change his feelings one iota. Seifer had been his enemy before anyone had ever heard of Ultimecia.

Squall sighed, nodding his acquiescence. "He can recuperate and take the SeeD exam. If he passes, he will be reinstated. If he should cause problems, he's out."

Edea smiled. "That is all I can ask."


	18. Bitter Retrospect

_"Seifer and I had always had a strange hot and cold relationship back at the orphanage, and the little game of insult and counter-insult continued when he returned."_

-Quistis Trepe, _The SeeD and the Sorceress_

Seifer lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The room brought back so many memories, some good, some bad. When had it all gone wrong? After the Sorceress Affair. Where it had gone wrong to start with was abundantly clear. When Time Compression had faded he had found himself on the Balamb docks. Fujin and Raijin had been there too, and that had been a good time, healing the wounds inside him. Then Balamb Garden had returned, and they had been forced to leave before some SeeD on leave found him there. They had left to Deling, to become lost in the big city.

He had grown a beard and didn't cut his hair for a few months, leaving his trademark trenchcoat safely in the closet. It hadn't been so bad then, getting a low profile street job and spending the nights in bars with his only friends. But something had happened, somehow somebody found out.

They had an apartment downtown, it had been after midnight on a Saturday, all three of them basking in the warm alcoholic glow before the hangover and reminiscing on the old times that they cared to remember. Then the door was kicked in, and armored police swarmed the room like locusts.

If they had been prepared, then maybe things might have been different. Maybe Raijin wouldn't have stared in shock for a second too long and have avoided that shot to the head. Maybe Fujin would have reached her Pinwheel in time to kill the soldier in the entryway before he riddled her with bullets. Maybe Seifer would have been able to kill more than three of them before he was brought down from behind, the butt of a gun slamming into his skull.

He had been given a 'trial'. It had been nothing more than a sentencing. It had taken place in front of the top members of the Galbadian court. They should have killed him. Instead, he had been doomed to life in prison, sent to rot away in the bowels of the D-District holding facility. He supposed they had chosen not to kill him in light of twisted politics. He could have been useful someday if the public execution of a famous war criminal and SeeD would sway the people back in their favor.

The thoughts were like a burning crack in his brain, a bright light too painful to look at directly. Beneath it all were the harsh sounds of cold laughter and the barely remembered touch of black lacquered fingernails. What would he say if Cid ever asked him? _'Sorry Cid, I can't remember if I fucked your wife and my surrogate mother behind your back, and did I mention it's tearing me up inside?'_.

Try not to think about it, roll over and study the glow of the digital numerals on the clock face next to the bed. Three-thirty in the morning. Three hours to go before daylight gave him respite from the torture inside his head. Maybe two hours and thirty minutes. Too long either way.

He tried to shift his thoughts to something else. Trepe. His new babysitter. He had been back for a day and she was already telling him what to do. Wonderful. His only comfort was that he could make sure she would hate it as much as he did. Push some buttons. Make it fun. For him, anyway.

In that frame of mind, he was almost looking forward to it.

-

Selphie tiptoed around the dorm getting ready for the day ahead, trying not to wake up the still softly snoring Zell in his bed. She giggled quietly at the sound. But she didn't have time to stay in bed today, she had people to lampoon into working on the Garden Festival, which was just six weeks away. And there were two people in the Garden she hadn't asked yet, Scott and Seifer. She didn't think Seifer would be amenable to the suggestion, but Scott seemed like a nice enough guy to lend a hand. And if he didn't want to, he seemed like a little bit of a pushover too. After all, they had brought him back to Garden, so he owed it to the Garden to help with the Festival, right? She thought so.

Keying open the door, Selphie looked at the piece of paper she had in her hand, on which she had written Scott's dorm number after a little research the night before. '63' it read. It didn't take long to get there. She rapped out a cheery little beat on his door, and almost screamed when it opened.

To say Scott was disheveled was to say the least. He had bags under his eyes that were bigger than the eyes themselves, and his blond hair stuck out in every conceivable direction. Rough stubble adorned his face and it looked like he could barely keep his eyes open.

"Not a morning person, hmm?" Selphie asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Scott winced. How could anyone sound so alive and perky at this time of day? He was used to getting up early from his time in the service, but that didn't mean he was pretty about it.

"No."

"Well, cheer up!" Selphie chirped, making him wince again. "I've got just the thing to wake up sleepyheads like yourself!"

"What?"

"How would you, like to be... on.. the.. GARDEN FESTIVAL COMMITTEE!"

"The what now?"

"The Garden Festival Committee silly," Selphie said, beeping him on the nose. "It's only the best committee ever, and its goal is one we can all enjoy!"

"Explain how."

"Weeell... Every year we have a Garden Festival, which is the best party ever next to the Graduation Party, and between you and me, I think its way better. Anyway, we plan and build a stage in the Quad, get a band to perform, arrange catering and bingo! We have a Garden Festival. I'm in charge, and I just need some volunteers to help me make it happen!"

"What do you need me for?"

"I knew you'd come through for us!"

"Whoa, wait, I didn't say-"

"Just show up this morning at ten o' clock sharp and I'll put you to good use!"

"Just a minute-"

"We're going to make this the best Festival yet!" She exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck in an impromptu hug. "Right Scott?"

Looking down into her excited green eyes, he knew it wouldn't matter if he said no. _Looks like you got yourself a committee. _"Right."

"Thaaat's right! Later!"

She skipped off down the hallway, no doubt to find some other people to 'ask' about the Festival. _Oh well._ It would take his mind off his other problems anyway.

Ten o' clock rolled around a few hours after he had forced himself to get dressed and eat something. He stopped to consult the directory before heading off to the Quad, descending the short flight of stairs into the large auditorium space. It was fairly bland now, not much happening scenery wise, but he could see construction had already started. He spotted Zell lugging timber into carefully stacked piles for the stage flooring and Selphie and Rinoa busy assembling the various attachable pipes that would make up the structure itself. From the amount of pipes still stacked in their various boxes, it was apparent it would take a long time. He sighed and rolled up his sleeves, walking over to give Zell a hand.

Over the next half hour a few more students rolled in to help out. Irvine had of course been roped in by Selphie, and Nida dropped by too. The whole situation seemed somehow bizarre in its normality, just a bunch of people putting together a stage for a big show. Weird after all the other things he had been doing lately, like fleeing for his life. Taking a break from the lumber, he walked over to stick some pipes together for Rinoa and Selphie, both of whom were crouched over a large blueprint of what it would all look like once completed, an extremely thick book of instructions lying unused nearby. That couldn't be a good sign. He could only hope Selphie might know what she was doing, having done this sort of thing before.

Soon he was lost in the incomprehensible jumble of seemingly unrelated pieces that would somehow form a stage. In order to preserve his sanity, he zoned out all distractions, concentrating fully on fitting together things that might be supposed to fit together but most definitely did not.

Close by Rinoa was talking animatedly to Selphie. "I don't know, I think those pieces might be in a box we haven't opened yet. Hyne, you'd think this would get easier after all this experience. I remember back in D.C.-"

That jerked Scott out of his stupor. "D.C.?"

"Yeah, Deling City."

"Oh. Deling City."

She gave him a strange look. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Rinoa gave him another look before she turned back to the diagram, continuing whatever tale she was telling about 'D.C.'. He shook his head and tried to get back to the pipes at hand. _Lousy pipes._

Nida had also quit hauling wood and was trying to put the stage together. His frustration was evident as he banged two pipe ends together in an attempt to force them to fit.

"These pipes suck ass!" He grunted, one of said pipes slipping from his grasp to clang noisily on the tiled floor. "We do this every year and we never learn a damn thing. Goddamn fucking pipes-"

Nida realized how ridiculous he sounded swearing at the pipes. He laughed at himself. "I suppose there's a morale to be learned in all of this."

"And that is?"

"Pipes suck ass."

"Amen."

They worked in silence for awhile longer before Nida spoke again. "I always love the Garden festival. You should have seen the prank Zell pulled last year with the cake. Well... Maybe its better you didn't."

"What did he do?"

"I've been sworn to secrecy along with everyone else who witnessed it. If you really want to know, better ask Zell himself."

"I see."

Another stretch of silence.

"Hey, Scott," Nida said.

"Yeah?"

"These pipes suck ass."

"Yeah."

-

It had only been a matter of time before Spreading Sun finished the task it had been conceived to complete, and now the only remaining rebel factions left in Galbadia were decimated and leaderless. A strange sickness had fallen upon all of them, and the total loss of life was staggering. There would be no recovery for them, and the government troops that descended on them shortly after only finalized their doom. Galbadia was whole once more, and on the road to regaining its full power. Julian was pleased.

He set the report aside, now turning his attention to the next matters of business. A city called Timber, and a recent escapee from the downtown prison, a Galbadian General named Caraway.

Caraway had killed the deposed Poleground, and had somehow overpowered a guard and escaped shortly after. While Caraway had been an important political figure at one time, Julian did not feel this was of any import at the moment. Caraway would only become a concern if he attempted to regain power, and should he resurface Julian would be quick to step on it before it became out of hand. He would still inspire loyalty in his troops, and Julian was disappointed, since he knew Caraway could not be persuaded to work for him even if he was recaptured. No matter, to be dealt with another day.

Julian knew Timber was a revolutionary state on the edge of Galbadia. Timber had been its own country until annexed only a few decades past. Currently, it belonged to Galbadia only by paper alone, since all the forces that had been occupying Timber had slowly been removed, either by mutiny or legitimate order. Julian supposed he could order a reoccupation, but for what? While Timber had at one time been a rich source of wood, now its thick forests were a thing of the past, and its only real value lay in the railways. No, he would not waste time and manpower trying to conquer Timber. One country was enough for now.

So much had happened before he had come to take charge. The former government had left its fingerprints everywhere, and Julian was still trying to sort through the aftermath of the sordid affair which had taken place during the nights leading up to the invasion, an attempted kidnapping of four SeeDs. All of the SeeDs in question had been implicit in the Ultimecia Affair, and Galbadia had good reason for wanting them removed, no doubt part of their larger campaign against Garden. A campaign whose remnants Julian planned to put to good use. The SeeDs had escaped, fleeing the city the very night Julian had entered it, their flight recorded by the city limits security. He found it fascinating how close things had come to turning out very differently. But it was another piece of information gleaned from the newly printed files that interested him. A fifth SeeD, someone not involved in ventures past. Someone the SeeDs had called Scott. Someone who had been inexplicably in Deling City. Julian had a photo of him.

Julian knew.

He reached for the com on his desk, studying it for a moment before remembering how to correctly operate the device. It was just a phone really, but the dialing was a bit different, using lettered switches instead of numbered buttons. He wondered if it was different outside of Deling. The com rang only twice before there was a pickup on the other side.

"Hello?"

"Michael. Something of interest has come up. I've found our wayward soldier."

-

After three hours, Quistis felt she would rather go another round with Ultimecia than face another pile of paper work. So many tests, so many new students. Gardens' population had increased nearly a hundred and twenty percent, and they were forced to turn away more students than ever, many capable enough to have made it in the past. The eventual reconstruction of Trabia Garden would ease some of the burden off Balamb, but that was years distant, the Gardens coffers still hurting from the recent trials.

Really, she would even like to go down and help Rinoa and Selphie with the stage, as nightmarish as she knew that would be. Still, it was good that Rinoa had joined the committee.

When she had first come back to Garden, the fact that she was a sorceress had caused quite a bit of trouble. Most of the SeeDs involved in the entire affair knew, but it was a fact kept from the newer students, and wisely so. Those that had been there knew that Rinoa had helped save the world. Those who hadn't would only see a Sorceress. The first few months had been rough for her, but with Squall's constant support she was eventually accepted. The Commander could do no wrong, and if it was okay with him, it was okay with everybody. Still, she was sure there were always a few holdouts, hate secretly seething under a facade. They knew this, so discretely one of them was always with Rinoa.

When she went down to the cafeteria every morning, Selphie or Quistis would talk to her. If she wanted to exercise in the training center, Zell would be innocently nearby doing some training of his own. If she was reading in the Library, Irvine just happened to be flirting with the girls behind the counter. And of course anytime he could wrench himself free from his work, Squall was attached at the hip with her. Even Nida was sometimes called upon to play watchdog. He may have often been ignored, but he was still a top-level SeeD, and a damn fine one.

She looked at her watch. Eleven thirty. Half an hour away from her extra assigned duty. Putting up with Seifer. She hated being handed the responsibility, but she knew she was the only teacher who could probably handle it. She knew Seifer better than anyone else from her time as his teacher. Now she would be his teacher and parole officer. Just like old times.

She spent the next half hour trying not to fall asleep at her desk. She had inadvertently slipped into a doze when she was rudely awakened by two booted feet dropping on her desk in front of her face. She looked up to see the now cleaned visage of Seifer sitting in a chair on across the desk, feet up, attitude on.

"Instructor," He began, trademark sneer gracing his face. "I didn't want to disturb you before since you were busy, but I see that was a misconception."

She looked at the clock in horror to find that it was twelve forty-five. She had slept unknowingly for over an hour, and of all the people catch her at it, it had to be Seifer. She didn't let any of her feelings reach her face.

"I didn't hear you knock."

"That makes sense, because I didn't knock. Should I assume this is nap time everyday?"

She didn't deign to reply. Getting up, she smoothed out her clothes and motioned for him to follow.

The Headmaster first wanted her to take Seifer to the training center and evaluate his present skill level. From the incident at the front gate, she could tell he was far from top form. The trip to the Training Center was left in an unusual silence, and Quistis began to think that it might not be as arduous as she had assumed. The halls were empty at the moment, for which she was thankful. No doubt some sort of trouble would have erupted had the students seen Seifer.

The Training Center was also devoid of other people, and they tramped through the thick underbrush towards the bridge. Halfway there, the bushes rustled and the telltale chittering of a Grat could be heard. Quistis stepped behind Seifer in a good position for support, and Seifer readied his gunblade.

The Grat burst forth from the foliage, tentacles waving in menacing patterns. Moving quickly, but without his former grace, Seifer easily ducked beneath its guard and brought his blade up through its torso in a crippling blow, the bullet speeding through whatever organs the Grat called its own and out its leafy back.

Arms still moving feebly, the Grat slumped to the ground and died. Seifer pulled back and she could see he was panting heavily, and wincing with pain from his ribs. He had refused bed rest. Even such a simplistic assault tired him at this stage. It was clear he would be no match at this point for the more powerful creatures that roamed the enclosed jungle. Making her notes on her clipboard, she looked up at Seifer as he turned around.

"I think that's all for today."

Even as she said it she could see the anger rise in his eyes. Seifer despised weakness, and none more so than his own. He would never admit he was exhausted.

"What the hell are you talking about Trepe?" He spat, eyes narrowing. "We just got here."

"I have enough information to make my repor-"

"You'd have more if you hadn't been sleeping on the fucking job. Stop trying to duck out of your work, _Instructor_, and instruct."

She stiffened, eyes flashing. "Perhaps I would have more to report if you had any skills worth reporting."

He almost winced. Almost. Like usual, she managed to hit him harder than anyone else. He opened his mouth to fire back but she was already walking away. He frowned. That was new. Usually she would fight him until they were forced to stop for some outside reason. He could remember back at the orphanage sometimes he would hurt her feeling enough to make her cry. She had outgrown that, and now apparently she had outgrown the need to bother with him.

He shook it off, sheathing his gunblade. He headed off to the weight room, a small smile on his face. _Next time, Quistis._


	19. Irreverent Crusade

"Sometimes I feel there are those who would interpret our actions as some mechanism for the end of the world. A doomsday brought about by unnatural occurrence. Myth is rife with such things. 'And the wicked shall inherit the earth'. A charming sentiment for those who can afford it. But you and I must see beyond the customary black and white, and examine the shades of gray between. If history has anything to say, it's that nothing is ever justified. The conquerors and the conquered each have their own very different viewpoints, and each comfort themselves with the knowledge that they stand with the side of Good."

Starting today we will begin actions that many would condemn us for. Recognize this fact, and accept it. Face the truth that what we are doing falls beyond the boundaries of standard morality. What the preacher in the pulpit gives forth can only apply to things smaller than himself. Like a man who sleeps with another man's wife and then calls her a whore, those who would judge us are themselves steeped in hypocrisy and lies. Abandon such thinking, and do not hold yourself to any standards but your own."

Over a thousand years ago a great Crusade was launched from Europe with the sole purpose of bringing the Middle East beneath its heel. Now we launch our own similar venture, but we will not be blinded by illusions of grandeur and the false righteousness instilled by religious fervor. We will not go forth in the name of a misguided attempt."

Today, Michael, we start the Crusade of Personal Gain, the only kind that makes sense."


	20. Unforseen Consequences

_"Progress is the Future, and the Future is infinite."_

-TAA company slogan

As soon as he put his foot on the step, he knew something was wrong. Maybe it felt just a little too slippery, or maybe his foot was on a slightly wrong angle. Whatever the reason, Scott found himself painfully tumbling head over heels down the first floor dormitory stairway. He shut his eyes just before his head impacted with the tile floor at the bottom. He lay there dazed, still half on the stairs. He figured it probably wouldn't be a good idea to get up until he could make out the light fixture on the ceiling above him. It was just starting to come into focus when a large object talking quickly in concern blocked his vision.

"Scott? Scott? Oh my Hyne, can you hear me?"

"Huh?"

"Can you hear me?"

"I think so."

"Here, let me help you-"

He was slowly pulled up into a sitting position by a feminine pair of arms. He uncrossed his eyes and immediately recognized his savior. It was Michelle, the girl he had met in the cafeteria, Rinoa's friend. And maybe it was just the severe blow to the head talking, but-

"You're pretty."

"What?" She said, an uncertain smile crossing her lips.

He shook himself, mortified. "Uh, nothing. Thanks for the help, I feel pretty- Uh, really stupid."

"Oh... Well, no problem. Did you slip?"

"Yeah, yeah, just slipped on the stair there..."

"Do you need to go to the infirmary?"

"No, no I'm fine. Just a little bruised..."

Michelle chewed on her lower lip, hoping he would say something else. She had been trying to talk to him again, but he had always been off doing something with Nida or working in the Quad. She had just helped him, the least he could do was ask her out, right? She had questioned herself somewhat on her sudden and inexplicably intent interest in this man, but she felt drawn to him, even if she didn't know why.

Scott could see the way she was looking at him, he wasn't stupid. Not really stupid, anyway. He did owe it to her for taking the time to help him, but he didn't want to get involved considering the situation he was in. And Michelle seemed like the kind of girl he would want to involved with, too. He had seen her at the Garden every now and then. She was smart, and funny, and really hot, if sometimes a little bit of a ditz. And her breasts pushed against those uniforms in just such a way that he couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to walk up behind her and mold their soft weight in his hands- but he really shouldn't be risking an erection until he could stand up and straighten his pants so he pushed those thoughts aside.

"Well, uh, thanks again," He said, getting to his feet. He held the railing for a second to steady himself. "I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah... Bye then." She said, obviously disappointed.

Scott quickly walked away. Now, where had he been going? Ah yes, Nida had wanted to show him some secret area in the Training Center. Now what was up with that?

-

Seifer grunted as he lifted the barbell, veins standing out on his arms. He was struggling to lift less than half the weight he had used to, and he wasn't happy about it. Getting in shape was going to take more time than he wanted. It was embarrassing, really. There had been no gym in prison. Strange, since the thought of prison usually brought to mind the image of inmates pumping steel. They had it right over in Galbadia. Weak inmates equaled less resistance. The algebra of politics.

The gym was an extension of the Training Center, a small entryway to the left of the large steel doors that kept the creatures where they belonged. It was fairly large, but not very used, Garden policy being that fighting monsters was superior training to weight lifting. Sometimes classes did come in on rotation, but today the gym was empty save for Seifer, and he was glad of it. However, he had little doubt Quistis would be back to check on him periodically. The stupid bitch, he mentally tacked onto the end of the thought for good measure.

His solitude was interrupted as the door banged open, and Seifer froze when he saw the figure entering the room. Zell Dincht. This could only go downhill.

Zell also stopped in his tracks. His face registered several emotions before it settled on rage. Seifer struggled to keep his mouth shut, knowing whatever insult he uttered would only worsen the situation. As much as Seifer loved to give Zell a hard time, he also wanted to stay in Garden. And keep his ribs intact. Zell stared at him for a few seconds, fists shaking, before abruptly turning on his heel and leaving, slamming the door behind him.

Seifer let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. There was no doubt in his mind that if Zell had opted to stay there would have been trouble. He mentally thanked his newfound self-control. There were many at the Garden who would use any excuse to kick him out again, and a fight with Zell might have given them the ammo they needed.

Shaking his head, he went back to the weights.

-

If Squall was a man given to outbursts of frustration, which he wasn't, then he would have no doubt been in a state somewhere near frothing at the mouth. After six hours of queries, waiting on hold, and more queries, he could make only one conclusion based on the information he had received- Dr. Odine did not exist.

No one had seen him. His laboratory was empty. His secretary could not be found, and every trace of his work was under lock and key. The only useful piece of information he had gleaned had been from an Estharian Home Front officer, indicating that it was quite possible the Doctor was no longer in the country. But not even the prestigious position of SeeD Commander could open any more doors. Odine had slipped into a hole and filled it shut behind him.

Squall was jerked out of his trance by the sudden opening of his office doors, and a female SeeD entered carrying a large bag marked as postage. No doubt something important that had come in the mail. He frowned, trying to remember her name. Michelle something. SeeD in training, currently a temp for one of the many secretarial positions needed to run the office side of Garden.

Michelle mistook his frown to be directed at her and, smiling apologetically, quickly set the bag down and left the office. Squall picked it up, finding it to be surprisingly light for a bag of its size. He opened it, and his eyes grew wide at the sight of its content.

It was their clothes. There was Selphie's yellow outfit and Quistis' pink vest. Irvine's trenchcoat took up most of the bag. At the bottom was the faded and tattered jumpsuit of Scott's.

Squall pulled out his leather jacket, relishing the texture of it. He would never admit it to anyone, but he had missed his old clothes. He just never could get comfortable in SeeD uniform.

He picked up the bag, turning it over. No return address. The report clipped to it stated it had arrived in Balamb on boat with the rest of the standard mail. With common sense Squall could deduce it had come from Galbadia, most likely from Deling City. Another strange peace overture? Unless more clues could be gleaned from the bag itself, there would be no way to trace it back to the precise location it had been sent from or, much more importantly, under whose name it had been sent in.

Swiveling his chair back to face the desk, Squall pressed the intercom button.

The rest of the group had assembled in less than fifteen minutes, pulled away from their various teaching assignments, or in Rinoa's case, class. There was a minute of silence as Squall threw the bag on the floor in the middle, its contents spilling out on the floor. He was already dressed in his usual attire.

Selphie was the first to make a sound, squealing with joy as she pulled her dress out of the bag. Zell scratched the back of his neck, puzzled. Irvine was busy pulling his things out of the bag, and Rinoa was hiding a smile, noticing that Irvine was already wearing an exact duplicate of his lost outfit. Scott didn't really care that much if he recovered his rag tag jumpsuit, but bent down to pick it up anyway.

Quistis looked at Squall. "How did you get these?"

"Mail. Evidence already went through them. No bugs, no traps. No return address."

"No leads."

He sighed. "Yes. I don't even have an idea why they didn't just send this back with Seifer. Assuming the simplest explanation we could even suppose they simply forgot."

Zell was pacing, a sure sign he was thinking about something or the other. "I don't get it man. They went through all that trouble to grab you, and now they're giving back your stuff?"

Quistis was deep in thought. "Obviously the change of government in Deling was total. This is probably another gesture of friendship."

"Maybe they've had a change of heart then!" Selphie chirped, laying her dress on the floor and smoothing out the wrinkles. "Maybe this is their way of saying sorry for what the other government did?"

Quistis rolled her eyes. "I don't think Galbadia is very sorry about anything."

"So, maybe they're all cool with us then?" Zell asked, popping his knuckles. "Sending back our shit seems pretty friendly."

Selphie smiled delightedly at her dress again. "Well, I'm sold!"

Quistis frowned, still unsatisfied. "I don't know. How come they haven't contacted us then? If this was a peace offering they should have given it with the clear message that it was intended as such. At least Seifer acted as a clear messenger."

Squall put a hand to his forehead, not replying. It was all so puzzling. Who would bother to return clothing by mail? It was almost as if the new Galbadian government didn't want the clothes on their hands and decided to get rid of them by giving them back. Squall had attempted contact with Deling several times, to no success. Whoever was on the other end of the line wasn't talking back, and the steadily increasing lack of information on the Galbadian situation was becoming worrying. Nothing fit together, nothing made sense.

A great feeling of aggravation descended on him as he braced himself for the inevitable, which he had successfully stalled up until this point. He would have to talk to Laguna and see if he knew anything. He had learned what he could through strictly diplomatic channels, but now he would have to call in some favors. He winced in distaste at the thought of using his 'relationship' with Laguna for something like this.

First, however, the matters at hand. "I don't think we can learn anything else standing around. Get back to your classes, I'll tell you if anything else turns up. Anybody missing anything?"

They all replied with assorted negatives, every missing piece of clothing back in the hands of its rightful owner. "Good. Dismissed."

They all left the room, Rinoa giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek before heading back to her class. Squall turned back to the monitor, reaching for the dreaded com button to Esthar, when he noticed Zell hadn't left yet, hanging around the water cooler next to the door. He frowned yet again. What exactly had Zell been doing today? Surely he had been working on something or the other. Zell met his gaze, and Squall raised an eyebrow in question.

Zell kicked the floor sheepishly, hands in his pockets. "Hey, man, look, uh, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to, uh, hang out today, or something?"

Squall raised the other eyebrow.

"Well, you know, Sei, uh, somebody else was already using the weight room, and Selphie is too busy today so we're not putting up the stage, and I'm tired of training by myself. It didn't look like you were doing anything, so I figured..."

Didn't look like he was doing anything? _No Zell, I'll go waste time with you. You're right, I wasn't doing anything, just working my ass off over matters of extreme political import. Obviously, all I need to remove that pole up my ass is a half hour with you in the Training Center._

Squall almost smiled at his inner monologue. Almost. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. Wasn't everyone always saying he needed to take more breaks? What the hell He would take the rest of the day off and then make sure in future that Zell always had something to do.

-

"Have you ever heard the saying, 'complete the motion if you stumble'? A wise choice. Try to keep some perspective. This is only a minor setback."

Hendrow shook his head, marveling that Julian could be so calm. He himself was shaking and sweaty, and no doubt would have been near panic if it weren't for Julian's calming aura. God knew the rest of the men were. And unless something could be done soon, there was no predicting what might happen.

Whatever the consequences, it was clear that at 4:14 Earthside Eastern time, the portal had folded in on itself and disappeared. There had been no warning, no messages of alarms from the lab. In a matter of seconds, the portal had lost integrity, wavered, shrunk into nothing and vanished. They had received word of the incident from base camp just a moment before, over an hour after the fact. And judging by the wording of the message, the atmosphere at the camp was fast going from bad to worse.

Julian folded the communiqué, a text message relayed by a hookup the base had established with the Galbadian communications system linked by the tower in Dollet. Voice and video were not yet available.

"Call up one of the APCs. We need to get back as soon as possible and make the best of this. I'm sure all we need is to give the people Earthside some time to reopen the portal, and the last thing we need is for panic to set in," Julian said getting up, confidence still in his posture. "I must address the men."

-

The Lab was becoming more tumultuous by the minute, and the Agent was neck deep in it all.

From the strangled whispers and frantic mutterings all around, he had gathered that something was desperately wrong. The worst possible scenario had come true, and the Portal was in jeopardy. Technicians ran back and forth through the halls, wide eyed, lab coats flapping behind them. Reports were circulating and everyone had been called forth for active duty. And when things quieted down in the momentary lulls between the panic, the Agent thought he could hear alarms faintly blaring in the distance. And he knew what he had to do.

Summoning his courage, the Agent prepared to use the confusion to his advantage. He would attempt to penetrate the lock doors from which he had been turned away before.

It was now or never.

-

_Hyne felt a great load slip from her shoulders as the portal collapsed, and some of the damage wrought was righted. The pulsing tangle of the Knot still wore at her, but without the rasping presence of the Portal scratching at the back of her mind, she could deal with it better. But no matter what, she could only delay the inevitable._

_She watched as the Outsiders left Deling. They would try and renew the Portal, and she wished them nothing but failure. She could see the movement of their army, their troops positioning themselves. Soon, this mighty force would be launched at her children, and she would be powerless to help them._

_The tiniest spark of an idea settled in her conscience. Powerless, unless... Yes, it could happen. But it would have to happen just right._

_Reaching out, Hyne began to put her grand scheme into motion. Once she was finished, it would be out of her hands and into the less capable ones of Fate. She could only watch, and wait, and hope._

-

**_At which point it should have fallen into your supposedly capable hands._**

_If you keep interrupting me this is going to take forever._

**_And thus I must remind you that we have forever._**

_Yeah, but I'm sure as hell not going to spend it with you._

_**You may very well be spending a great deal of it on a desolate rock somewhere if you can't talk your way out of this. Continue.**_


	21. Aberrant Perception

_"Never before have I met somebody so thoroughly quixotic. She may be a dreamer, but she's my dreamer, my romantic, my innocent."_

-Zell Dincht (_Summer's Gone_, Tio Rank P)

_"Technology is dominated by two types of people: those who understand what they do not manage, and those who manage what they do not understand."_

-Putt's Law

"Oh Jesus, get _ba_-"

The sentence was never finished as the console exploded, sending the scientist flying through the air a blackened corpse. Lights flickered on and off, and sirens blared as various workers ineffectively sprayed the growing fires with extinguishers. It looked like the set of a bad disaster movie, and the Agent found himself in the middle of it all.

Trying to look like he belonged, the Agent weaved his way through the carnage, figuring he would be less likely to draw attention if he ran like everyone else. He saw a likely target in a young technician cowering in a corner. The Agent ran over to him, crouching down.

"_You okay?_" The Agent shouted. The technician took his hands off his ears, nodding a quick yes.

"Y-yeah.." He muttered, barely audible. The Agent scanned the room in a look of faked confusion.

"_What's going on?_"

"_Ha-has anyone called the fire squad?_"

"_Yeah, I just did,_" The Agent lied, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder. "_What happened?_"

"_The portal collapsed!_"

"_What?_"

"_I said, the portal collapsed! Just vanished into thin air!_"

"_When?_"

"_Just a minute ago! Everything was fine and then 'bang'! The whole place started shaking and now it's falling apart!_"

The Agent frowned. "_Just because of the portal?_"

The technician looked at him suspiciously, but didn't question him. "_When it went down it went without any control and the feedback fried our systems! Plus the shock of the Tunnel collapsing is raising hell with everything else!_"

"_What do you mean?_"

"_Think of it this way- if you collapse a real life tunnel, all the air that was in it is forced out, and the resulting shock wave is pretty big. A big tunnel just fell in on itself, and we were standing close by._"

"_So what's the effect going to be?_"

"_Anything and everything! We've never done this before, there's no way of predicting what the result of a collapse might be! This is all so new, we were unprepared!_"

All further conversation was halted as one of the I-beams supporting the hangar ceiling jerked, wobbled, and then melted like butter. White hot liquid steel splashed down onto the floor and over several people, killing them instantly. The Agent grabbed the technicians arm, and they ran for their lives.

-

Hendrow paced the plushly carpeted floor of Julian's office, the occasional bead of sweat finding its way down into his collar. How could it have come to this? It wasn't possible. Everything had been so perfect...

Julian sat unruffled behind his desk, languidly palming over several eyewitness statements of the incident. He frowned at Hendrow's pacing, disapproving of his panicked demeanor.

"Please, Michael. Sit down."

Hendrow complied, shakily seating himself across from the desk. The blinds were drawn, and he couldn't tell it was daylight outside, the only source of light being a dim desk lamp. Julian smiled slightly at his discomfort. "If anything Michael, you should be worried for the people Earthside. Since the lab there generated the portal, they are receiving whatever backlash the collapse resulted in."

"What kind of backlash?"

"Completely unknown. It might be nothing, it might be catastrophic. We'll simply have to wait and see."

"What's going to happen to us Julian? How we will get back home?"

Julian sighed, rubbing his temples. "Michael, do not worry yourself. There are two other facilities almost capable of reaching us, and for all we know the Oregon lab has already righted itself and is in the process of reopening the portal as we speak."

"But what about-"

"I no longer find this conversation enlightening," Julian said, eyes hardening. "I've told you there is little reason to fear. Now, why don't you get some rest."

"Yes... Yes, of course."

Hendrow left, but his doubts did not.

-

Squall returned from the Training Center tired and sweaty. Zell just didn't seem to know when to call it a night, and Squall supposed he was still down there right now. On his way to the elevator he saw Selphie walking down the stairs, most likely returning from substitute duty, and decided he might as well send her down to collect Zell.

"Selphie."

She turned around, giving him one of her patented smiles. "Hey Squall!"

"I thought you might want to know. Zell is over in the Training Center. You'll probably have to make him leave."

Selphie giggled at the thought. Squall no longer found things like that as annoying as he had used to, as long as she didn't expect him to giggle with her. With a wink, she trotted off to retrieve Zell. Squall rolled his eyes, continuing to the elevator.

Nighttime was almost upon the Garden, shades of orange filtering in through the front entrance, tinting everything inside. Classes had been dismissed for the evening and most students had retired to their various dorms, a few of the more studious hard at work in the library. As opposed to the usual bustling noise of the day, now there was nothing but the deep omnipresent hum of the Garden machinery and the occasional echoing clack of footsteps.

Up in the office the deep hum was muted to a barely audible rumble. The soft noise of a keyboard being tapped filtered in from Xu's adjoining office, and he shut the doors. Settling in his leather chair, he glanced over at the closed door to his bedroom, light bleeding out from under the door frame. He assumed it was Rinoa, most likely studying for her classes.

He put a hand to his forehead, and, after a long suffering sigh, accessed the communicator main menu and connected to EstharNet. Using a special protocol reserved for SeeD, he went past the normal channels and was put through directly to the President. After waiting a few minutes, the screen flickered and came to life, revealing Laguna sitting behind his desk.

There was a moment of silence as the two stared at each other, Laguna's uncertain grin faltering and Squall's cold stare hardening. Laguna was the first to speak, running a nervous hand through his hair.

"Squall!" He said, forcing a little more joviality than was necessary into his tone. "What a pleasant surprise! What can I do for you?"

"Laguna," Squall deadpanned, jaw muscles twitching slightly. The man was already driving him insane, and he hadn't really done anything yet. "I need to make a request for information. Serving in the capacity of SeeD commander."

"Oh..." Laguna said, face falling. "Well, uh... Esthar is always willing to cooperate."

"It's about Galbadia. Do you have any idea what's going on?"

Laguna changed modes, dropping quickly into his role as President. "Interesting you should bring this up. There's been trouble over there recently. From what we can tell, a rebel insurgence captured De-"

"I know, we were there."

Laguna immediately became concerned. "Really? Is everyone okay?"

"Yes."

"Oh, well that's good. Anyway, if you already knew that, what do you need to know?"

"Which group took over Deling."

Laguna nodded, leaning back in his seat. "Well, that makes two of us. Frankly, we have no idea. And the new government hasn't let out a peep to anyone. However, I can supply you with photographs of the men we believe to be in charge."

"Send them over." Squall hesitated for a moment, deciding his role as SeeD commander outweighed his personal feelings. "We have some information concerning the insurgent leaders, or leader. There is one man clearly in charge, described as having dark green eyes and a large physique."

"The description would match one of the men in the photographs. Where did you find this out."

"Seifer Almasy was returned to Garden as a peace overture."

Laguna was clearly taken aback. "Seifer. That is unexpected. We haven't received any overtures here, but I've been keeping the lines open."

"Send those pictures, I'll be sending you a summary of everything Seifer was able to tell us."

"Consider it done. And Squall," Laguna said, and Squall could see he had shifted back into regular Laguna. "I... Think we should talk, sometime. Maybe when this is all sorted out, you could come over to Esthar and-"

"Maybe."

"Just think about it, that's I ask."

Squall didn't reply, canceling the connection.

-

I

t

was

a

Galaxy.

It

m

u

s

t

be

perfect.

Like me.

_...Like who?_

Remember

t

h

e

show?

_...No._

You're

falling

u

p

_How?_

Never

mind.

_...Never-_

The flooding stopped.

He was in a pressure cooker. A fly stuck to a windshield, there was a... Hallway? No. It was only a dream.

You

are

awake.

Some dream from a TV show. He remembered it now, a show about a secret agent in some lab. Sometimes it was dramatic, mostly it was funny. How did it end?

_There never was..._

Oh yes, there was. He remembered it now, some show about a spy in some bunker. Sometimes it was action packed, mostly it was sad. How did it end?

_No, there wasn't..._

Some show about a man who turned inside out all the time for no reason. Sometimes it was thought provoking, mostly it was shallow. Did it ever end?

"Oh fuck, wake up!"

Waking up was for chumps, especially on a Saturday morning like this. He'd better not get up until nine at least. That's when that one show came on. What was it about?

_There was no show!_

N

o

t

yet.

So insistent. Maybe it was time to-

S

t

o

p

dreaming.

The universe toppled, and the Agent fell back to the ground.

-

The humid atmosphere of the Training Center almost doubled the amount of work required to maintain the area, since it was prone to rust. A layer of plastic over the domed ceiling helped somewhat, but every now and then someone had to go and oil things up a little.

Zell however, did not rust, and as such there was no reason for him to leave. Easily kicking aside a Grat with a powerful roundhouse swipe, Zell roamed the dank arena in search of more challenging prey.

"Fuck!" He shouted, for no reason other than it felt good to do so. Maybe it was just him, but it was fun sometimes to yell stuff when no one was around. And it was because of the assumption that he was alone that he was so startled when a voice sounded behind him.

"Zell! Why in the world did you just say that?"

Zell spun around to be confronted by Selphie, hands on her hips, staring at him. "Uh, well, I-" He stuttered.

"Do you just go around screaming swears for no reason?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly kicking the ground. "Not all the time."

Selphie rolled her eyes, walking up to him. She stopped a few feet away and wrinkled her nose. She pointed an accusing finger at him. "And you, Mr. Dincht, need to shower."

"Yeah, I guess I probably do."

Selphie took his hand and led him off towards the dorms. And as he listened to her mildly chastise him, Zell made a realization. He was totally whipped.

And he totally loved it.

What else did he love about her, he wondered. He was in the shower in her dorm while she went over some papers from the day. He idly passed the soap from hand to hand, thinking about it. There were all the obvious things, her smile, her hair, how smart she was and how much she seemed to care about him. Then there were all the things he had only recently come appreciate, like how she would run her fingers through his hair sometimes for no reason, or how her eyes turned a deeper green when she was aroused. He tried to place it. A little darker than leaves. Emerald maybe. Uncut emerald. Had he ever seen an uncut emerald? He thought he had. Maybe he should look it up.

Uncut emeralds suddenly became entirely unimportant when she slipped into the stall behind him and wrapped one strong little hand around his dick. He distantly imagined that if he could summon the motor power to turn around, her eyes would be about that color right about now. He was saved from making any sudden moves when she slid to his front, wrapping her arms around his neck, straddling him and attacking his mouth with an intensity he might have found disturbing if it wasn't so delicious. Speaking of delicious, her breasts were flattened against his chest and he could feel delightfully hard little nipples abrading against his own. He decided to be a pal, and moved his hands down to cup her ass so she didn't have to support all of her own weight. It was only the friendly thing to do.

Coherent thought ceased when she reach down and guided him into her, and from there on out Zell wasn't sure where he was, but it was somewhere wonderful.


	22. Inevitable Desistance

_"What Scott told us about the universe was a slap in the face to the standard scientific mind set. The dreamers were right all along."_

-Quistis Trepe, _What's Hyne Got To Do With It?_

_There was a land once called California, now a wasteland wiped clean by nuclear fire. There was a boy called Link. Sometimes he was young, sometimes he was older, always he was fighting. There was a man who's name was a codeword, and he slipped through hallways, killing like a ghost. There was a bleak future ruled by machines, humankind used as batteries to fuel their mighty host. There was a man called Garion who's destiny was intricately tied to that of a stone. There was a spaceship ruled by an insane AI, haunting its metallic corridors. There was an unstoppable mountain of metal sixty feet tall that ran through a cityscape, the red Wolf emblazoned on its shoulder reflecting the light of burning buildings in its wake. There was a small creature who was thrust into a conflict of massive scale, bonded to fate by what rested around his neck. There was a boy called Ender who destroyed an entire race. There was a girl called Alice who went back to a familiar place that had become twisted and evil. There was a man called Caleb who believed it was all imagined, existing only in two dimensions on his screen._

_There were worlds without end._

Scott gasped, exhaling the stale air of sleep in one explosive motion. He thrashed around in his sheets, throwing them aside to sit shaking and sweaty on the edge of his bed, head in one hand to steady himself. The last images of the dream faded from his mind, an unthinkably vast cosmos swelling the limits of his perception.

He frowned, trying to remember what he had seen. Nothing but the vague sensation of infinite, an endless horizon he had stood before. He shrugged, vocalizing his final thought as if to put it behind him.

"Trippy."

The lukewarm water from the bathroom tap washed away the unpleasant aftertaste that breathing through the mouth while sleeping resulted in. He walked back into the main room and turned the light on, squinting his eyes against the sudden painful glare. The digital clock on the bedstand glowed 2:24. Early. Way too early.

Nothing to read, no TV to watch, unable to sleep. Scott sighed and leaned against the dresser, drumming his fingers on the top. _Oh well._ When in doubt, fall back on the old midnight stroll. Grabbing a pair of pants and throwing on a T-shirt, Scott wandered off into the dim hallways of the Garden.

Unlike some of the previous nights before the sky was dark, the moon obscured by heavy clouds. The Garden lights had been brightened to compensate and, while things were still bathed in a dim yellow, it was much easier to see.

Scott padded barefoot across the commons, gazing at the colorful architecture. Arbitrarily, he turned right out of the dormitory entrance, heading off towards the cafeteria. Maybe a late snack would make him sleepy. Until he remembered the cafeteria was completely closed off at night. In fact, by his recollection, the only two places open all night besides the dorms were the Quad and Training Center. There was no way he was going to the Training center, so he strode for the Quad.

The Quad was still filled with the various pieces of the stage that needed to be assembled. A few banners had been hung, the ladders used still sitting out. Several power tools lay on the ground, sawdust swept into piles by the equipment. It gave the air the familiar scent of lumber, lending the area a certain nostalgic atmosphere for Scott, though he wasn't certain why.

On a whim, he ascended the shaky stairs to the side of the platform and crossed the large stage, sitting on the edge with his feet dangling off the end. Alone with his thoughts, Scott lay back, relaxing his body. Of course, he'd have to be careful not to fall asleep-

_Outsider._

Scott pushed himself up, head whipping around. There was nothing, the Quad still bereft of anyone save himself. He frowned.

"Hello?" He said quietly. "Anybody there?"

_I will speak, and you must listen._

Scott lifted himself to his feet, looking behind him. "Oh, God, I know I'm not supposed to be out after curfew-"

_I am not your God, Outsider._

"No, that's not what I meant," He laughed nervously, still trying to find the source of the voice. "It's an expression where I come from- Look, I'm not in trouble am I?"

_Cease your nonsense and listen to me, for there is not much time._

"Okay, sure, just where are you?"

_Soon there will be a time of choice. You must prepare yourself for what will be required._

Now he was starting to become angry. "How about instead you prepare to tell me where the hell you are?"

_I have little patience left with you, Outsider. It is only by my grace that-_

"Little patience with me?" Scott said incredulously. "I'm not the disembodied voice in this equation lady, don't start with tha-"

**_Enough!_**

A sensation like a spear of lighting ripped its way through his brain and he fell to the stage floor, gasping in pain. The Quad was suffused in light, and he squinted against the brightness. When his eyes adjusted, what was revealed left him breathless.

She hovered over the stage. 'She' was so inadequate, it was so much more. It was a golden beacon, power given female form. It was glorious. And it most certainly silenced him.

**_Now you will listen to me, or I will revert you back to the matter from which you were formed._**

Scott wheezed something that sounded like an affirmative response.

**_Soon the disease that your kind has brought will spread to Garden. It is building across the sea, and I am powerless to stop it._**

The being burned brighter in anger.

**_Never doubt for a moment of your unnatural existence that if I had the power I would destroy you and your kind._**

The heat faded somewhat, and Scott thought the being might have sighed.

**_Instead, I must use you. You will help right this wrong of your doing._**

"What? I didn't do anything-"

**_SILENCE!_**

Scott did his best to sink into the stage, huddling away from the awesome power.

**_Your lies only damn you further. Do not attempt to placate me with your falsities_**.

"...Sorry."

**_Willing or not, you must take part in this._**

"Of what?"

**_To reveal would be to destroy. What will come will come. At this time, I can only instruct you in a way to impact the future without speaking of it. Before it is too late, you must learn to control the power within you. You must harness that energy. It is the only chance._**

"What power?"

**_Reach inside yourself. You will touch it. There is nothing else to say._**

The light started to dim, and the image before him slowly faded.

"Wait!" He called out, feeling belligerent in the wake of so many unexplained commands. "One last question!"

**_What is it, Outsider?_**

"Why are higher powers always so goddamn cryptic?"

_**Then I will phrase my response in a manner which you will understand. **_

**_Fuck you._**

With that, she was gone.

Irvine was awoken by a pounding on his door. He groaned, slowly rolling off the bed. Slowly making his way over to the door, he leaned against the frame and pressed the open button. With a slight hiss, the door slid to the side, revealing a wild eyed Scott.

Irvine squinted at him, contorting his face into a frown. "What the hell are you doing over here? It's 2:42 am."

"A God just told me to go fuck myself."

Irvine yawned, scratching his side. "That's great pal. Why don't you tell me all about it tomorrow over breakfast, okay?"

"No Irvine, I'm serious, I wasn't dreaming, this isn't a joke, some big shit just went down and I'm a little freaked out about it, okay!" Scott said, voice rising. "I don't know what the hell just happened!"

"Alright, alright. Come in."

After Irvine had woken up to at least a state of semi-awareness, Scott related the entire story. Irvine's reactions ran their course through a various range before settling on serious.

"Well," Irvine said, scratching his head. "I can't explain what happened, but considering all the cosmic stuff that's been going down I'm almost not surprised. I'll get everyone together tomorrow for a meeting, we'll figure this out."

"...Okay, right."

Irvine stood up, leading Scott back over to the door. "Try to get some sleep. I'm sure this will make more sense when we talk it over."

Scott began the walk back to his room, mind still churning with the recent events. He turned back around when he heard Irvine call something.

"Oh and, Scott!"

"Yeah?"

"Don't wake me up again unless something else starts talking to you."

-

"We press forward."

"But the current concerns of-"

"Forward, Michael," Julian stated again. "It is the only direction available to us. The other labs need time to finish their respective portals, and I will not spend that time sitting here while our plans are on the verge of completion. If anything, current events call for an acceleration of our plans. If we have an even stronger hold on the world by the time the portal reopens, so much the better. Progress is not made by wasting opportunity."

"I suppose."

"There are a things working in our favor. All our forces have gathered for quick deployment. With a little research, we found the personal webpage of 'Selphie Tilmitt', and we learned that Garden will be holding some sort of festival soon. That would be the most opportune time to strike."

Julian frowned. "However, because the portal is no longer available to us, we cannot bolster our forces with any more Earthside soldiers. We'll have to use more Galbadian men than planned."

Julian stood, walking over to a large map of the world he had pinned to the wall. Taking a red marker, he circled each country. Then he put an x through the circle of Galbadia. Capping the pen, he stood back and observed.

"After our hold on Galbadia is tightened, our main worries will center around Esthar. We can't be sure how they will react to the fall of Garden."

Julian put a question mark over Esthar.

"Trabia is much like Switzerland. What little we know of history has shown them to be neutral and isolationist. They will most like not involve themselves, especially as the country now lacks a Garden."

Julian put a horizontal line through Trabia.

"Likewise with the Shumi."

He put another line through the Shumi.

"Timber will be far too concerned with its own problems, and even if they did have a negative stance, they lack the power to strike us."

Yet another line was added to Timber.

"Dollet is another wild card, though not one on the scale of Esthar. They lack a strong military and have little political clout. Whichever way they blow, it won't effect the outcome much. The only real threat they pose is Dollet's possible use as a staging area for an Estharian assault."

Julian drew a question mark in the Dollet circle.

"And Centra isn't even a factor as it is for all intents and purposes depopulated."

Julian drew a last horizontal line through the Centra circle. He stepped back, studying the theater of war.

"I class Balamb with Balamb Garden, as they are practically one and the same. The locals will no doubt react to our invasion, and could hamper us if they organize. When we actually capture the Garden itself, it would be in our best interests to move it away from the island to avoid any more unnecessary conflict."

"Yes, quite, but do you think the men will be as willing to fight with the portal gone?"

"Some of them, yes, but I have no intention of solidifying the rumors. Officially, the portal is still operational. Speak nothing else in front of the men."

"I understand."

"Then we are ready to begin the preparations."

-

The fog dissipated as if struck by a strong summer breeze. Odd, considering there was no breeze. Was there ever any fog?

The Agent came to.

He found himself in a hallway. Nothing unusual about that. It looked like any of the many other hallways that crisscrossed the complex. White tile, white drywall covering the concrete beneath. Simple light fixtures on the ceiling. A waist high table against the corner wall. He was lying on his back in just such a corner junction, the hall stretching off above his head and to the left.

He sat up slowly, uncertain what injuries he might have sustained. None. He wasn't even dizzy. Besides himself and the hallway, the only other thing present was the nameless tech he had accosted in the lab, huddling against one of the walls. Sweat ran down his face, and his eyes darted from place to place. The Agent stood up, walking the few feet over to him.

"Thanks," The Agent said, putting out his hand.

"For what?" Despite his appearance, the tech sounded calm.

"For getting me out of the lab. Was I knocked out by the concussion?"

"I didn't do anything."

The Agent frowned, unable to reconcile this with their new position. "Then how did we get here?"

"I don't know."

Perhaps they had been both knocked unconscious by some explosion and then left here by some as yet unknown staffer who had gone off in search of help. But first things first. The Agent knew that the best thing to do first was to secure a safe exit. Then if possible, reenter the facility and salvage whatever information he could. He looked down at the quaking tech.

"We need to get out of here. Where are we?"

"I don't know."

"We need to find a directory then. If we can locate a la-"

"You don't _understand_. I know every inch of the facility, and I have _never_ seen this hallway before."

The Agent was worried at the hints of panic creeping into the tech's voice. The last thing he needed was a basket case on his hands in the middle of a crisis. The tech was a liability. His mission came first.

"You stay here," The Agent said, arbitrarily picking a hallway to start down. "I'll see what I can find."

The tech said nothing, just watching him.

The Agent started walking. The main priority was to find some sort of exit. Unfortunately, the facility had few paths to the surface. There was the main entrance, a large, almost hangar-like entrance through which most things came through, and then there was a smaller, secondary backdoor somewhere on the other end of the complex. Not knowing which end he was closest to, the Agent was unable to tell which direction would be the most likely to yield results.

At this point the Agent began noticing strange details about the hallway. For one thing, the lighting was strange. Despite that fact that the light fixtures on the ceiling were spaced, the hallway seemed to hold the same light level throughout. Also, no matter how far he walked, the end of the hallway didn't seem to be getting any closer. He knew something was very wrong when he at last glanced down to see he wasn't casting a shadow, nor was there any reflection in the tiles. He stared at the floor for most of a minute, unable to comprehend the situation. He spun around-

-To find that the tech and the corner table were still no more than five feet away.

"_What the hell_!"

"I told you."

"What the holy _fuck_ is going on?"

Not waiting for the tech to explain, the Agent began to run as fast as he could down the hall. After two minutes, he turned around. The table was still there.

In desperation, he slowly started to back away from the corner, keeping the table sight. It seemed to be working, the table slowly shrinking into the distance. Suddenly, he tripped on something, losing his balance and crashing to the floor. He pushed himself to his feet, and found himself looking at the table he had just tripped over, the same one he had been keeping in sight, and the tech sitting next to it.

Gasping, he fell against the wall, sliding to a sitting position next to the tech. He stared at the tech, who gazed back with tired eyes.

"Explain."

"I can't entirely. This is beyond me, beyond any of us. What 'this' is, is the result of the portal collapse. We're stuck here."

"For how long?"

"God knows. I don't."

"Is there anything we can do?"

The tech buried his face in his hands, his attitude that of someone already doomed. "No. As you found out for yourself, we can't go anywhere. The only way this place will right itself is if the fracture in the universe, which we are currently sitting in, repairs itself, or at least just goes somewhere else. Even then we're fucked though. When the portal rupture disappears, so will everything that goes with it."

"But wouldn't that just mean the wires and stuff connected to the portal would vanish? What does all this concrete have to do with the portal, it's not part of it."

"It doesn't work like that. The portal takes up a lot of space dimensionally, if not physically. It's all very complex spatial calculations, you wouldn't understand. But the fact is, that when the portal goes away, so will a mile and a half wide sphere around it."

"Jesus Christ. A mile and a half deep crater in the ground."

"Not deep, wide."

"But you said it was a sphere."

"Yes, but only in the relative Sphereverse. It overlaps."

"Can we stop it?"

The tech shook his head. "We can't even start it. I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do."


	23. Impending Conflict

_"A naive young soldier enters a portal and finds himself in a video game that has become his fantastic reality. A cheesy plot in the cheesiest of 1950s sci-fi flicks. Sometimes in the middle of the night I lie awake and wonder if it was all real. Wouldn't you?"_

-Scott Keyor, _Worlds Unknown_

Michelle happened to be stacking papers on Squall's desk when everyone assembled for another impromptu meeting, and with the present atmosphere she understood the need to leave. On her way out she gave Scott a small, perhaps hopeful, smile, which he rewarded with an uncertain one of his own. She closed the large double doors behind her, and all attention immediately focused on him.

He sighed, the situation all too familiar. "I had a run in with God last night."

Zell laughed, grinning widely. Everybody turned to stare at him and he shrank back, suddenly realizing that Scott wasn't joking. Selphie winced slightly, leaning over to whisper something in his ear. Zell shrugged sheepishly, embarrassed at his outburst. "Uh.. Sorry."

"Anyway," Scott continued. "I was walking around the Quad, when-"

"After curfew?" Quistis interrupted, her tone somewhat disapproving. Irvine rolled his eyes.

"Not now, Quiz. Besides, we've all been out after curfew."

"It's no big deal," He added to Scott. "Keep going."

"So, I was in the Quad when I heard someone talking to me. I talked back a little bit, kind of made it angry when I wouldn't listen, and then it appeared over the stage."

Scott gestured with his hands, trying to emphasize the dimensions of what he saw. "It was big. Not so big it filled the whole room, but pretty damn big. And it glowed. Gold, actually. Bright gold. Basically, and I forget exactly what it said, but the gist of it was that something big is going to happen and that I was the only one who could do anything about it. It talked about some 'power' I have and told me I needed to use it to do the stopping in question."

The group was silent as they digested this. Squall was the first to speak, gauging Scott's reaction.

"Would this have anything to do with what happened in the tunnel?"

Scott gave a start, stammering a half formed response. "I, uh, well-"

Irvine grimaced, avoiding looking at Scott's eyes. "I told everyone when we got back. We didn't say anything because it was... Best that you were observed, rather than messing with it."

From a strictly militant point of view, Scott understood the rationale behind such a decision, but it still hurt him a little. He stared at the floor, unsure of how to respond to such a statement. The atmosphere quickly turned awkward.

"We also, well, just didn't know what to do about something like that," Irvine quickly added.

Scott looked up, giving a small smile. "I... understand."

"Good," Squall said shortly with his usual tactlessness. "Now we want to try something. Rinoa."

Rinoa stood, walking over in front of Scott. He leaned back in his chair, not sure what to expect.

"I'm going to try to 'see' what's inside of you," She said, kneeling down until she was at eye level with him. "The minute you start feeling some sort of reaction you think might be bad, say something, okay?"

"Got it," He said, not at all sure that he did.

Closing her eyes in intense concentration, she put both hands on the side of his head. Everyone watched, tense and waiting for some sort of sudden backlash. Ten seconds passed, and nothing happened. The tension started to ease and the group began to relax. Fifteen seconds passed, and boredom began to set in, at least for Zell. Twenty seconds passed, and Rinoa leapt back with a gasp, jerking as if she had been electrocuted.

Squall was immediately on his feet, rushing over to her. The others were hot on his heels, and soon they crowded around a wheezing, pale Rinoa.

Squall glared up at Scott. "What happened?"

"I, God, I don't know!"

"You didn't feel anything?"

"No, nothing!" Scott almost yelled. "I was just sitting there and she fell down!"

"Infirmary, now!" Squall ordered. Selphie was halfway to the door to open it and Rinoa was in Squall's arms when she began to feebly wave her arms about.

"No no, stop!" She gasped. "Set me down, I'm okay!"

Squall carefully complied, and everyone backed off to give her some air. It was several seconds before she could continue.

"I... I think all my GFs are out," She said dazedly.

"Well what the hell did that?" Zell asked, still filled with adrenaline from the short panic. "You were just sitting there, nothing weird happened. Well, besides the knocking out thing."

"Yeah, it was so fast!" Selphie seconded.

Rinoa made a face, recalling the details. "Ugh, it was like being sucker punched. This big wave of energy knocked all of my magic out, and me with it."

She felt around her subconscious, finding the familiar power sans the GFs. "It's back now though. I guess I can't touch whatever Scott has."

"Here," Squall grunted, lifting her to her feet. "You sit down for awhile."

He helped her into a chair, and she gratefully sank back into it. Scott knew he hadn't done anything, but he still felt a little guilty.

Quistis shook her head in frustration. "If we didn't need Odine before, we certainly do now."

Zell started to shadow box, hopping back in forth in one place. "I say we grab the Ragnarock and go find that little butt monkey!"

Irvine rolled his eyes. "Hell, that's a great idea. You go warm up the ship and we'll be right down."

"Kick ass! Hurry up though, it's almost-" Zell froze, and his eyes narrowed. He turned back to glare at Irvine. "Fuck you man. Fuck you up the ass."

"I'm sure you'd like that."

"Shut your cake hole, faggot."

"I'm not going to take being called a faggot from the guy who wanted to do me up the ass, you little turd burglar."

"Then how about you shut the fuck up you fucking hayseed-"

"Stop it, both of you!" Selphie shouted, stamping her foot. "We're not supposed to fight each other!"

Zell gestured angrily towards Irvine. "Why don't you tell that to Huckleberry over there?"

"It takes two to tango, butt pirate."

"You goddamn hick-"

"No, she's right," Quistis interjected, not a little angry herself. "This isn't helping anything."

Once again Zell started up. "But he was-"

"You're both done," Squall said quietly, instantly asserting control. "And so is this meeting. We can't do anything without more information."

Everyone who wasn't already standing did so to leave. Zell was the first to the door, and before he left he couldn't resist one last jab at Irvine.

"Right behind you, hillbilly," Zell said, making a grand sweep with his arm at the door.

"Ladies first ass face."

Squall put his face in his hands as the argument ignited again.

-

Sergeant Patrick wasn't a real Sergeant, but that didn't stop him from acting like one. If you fell behind, he'd be in your face. If you forgot something, he'd remind you less than gently. And if you should for one moment step beyond the bounds of your authority, he'd be sure to let you know. The end result of his harsh regime was the behind the back nickname of Punishing Patrick or, if he had done something to particularly piss the men off, the shortened version consisting of just the initials.

Perhaps in a regular army his discipline might have paid off in eventual grudging respect and improved battlefield performance. Unfortunately for Patrick, the combined mercenary forces of Julian Foss were a most irregular army. When every man under your command is used to fighting by himself or in smaller groups, and in decidedly different circumstances, it became extremely difficult to overcome the vigilante atmosphere. To make matters worse, the average merc hadn't necessarily seen actual combat. Not a few were fresh to the business, and many of the veterans had been bounty hunters or worked security. Patrick himself had been in several private armies in Columbia and had taken part in serious fighting, attacking neighboring drug plantations and gunning down members of rival cartels. That was why he was a Sergeant.

It was strange duty, to be sure. Assaulting and occupying an alien city. And the portal... Most of the men had refused to enter it. The staff on site had been forced to send several people back and forth to prove it was safe, and their pay had been increased. There had still been a few holdouts, but the scientists had put on a convincing demonstration and the pay was too good to refuse. Strange stars at night, strange weather patterns in the day. Strange people with strange clothes. A lot of things were familiar. Cars, television, streetlights and telephones. It was still hard to believe it could be real. But after awhile the city became ordinary and the business of guarding a new country routine. Anything could become standard if you were exposed to it enough.

But then something had happened, and things had started to move again. Official word from the top was that there would soon be smaller assault on another target. Rumors drifted around about what that target might be. Anybody who had ever played Final Fantasy VIII, of which there were few, became valuable commodities, often charging for information. Even more troubling rumors circulated that hinted at trouble with the portal. But Patrick wasn't paid to question. He was paid to fight.

And from the way things were accelerating, he would soon get his chance.

-

_So anyway, what happened was-_

Hyne shut her senses to the state of the universe and concentrated solely on the task at hand. It didn't matter now anyway. If she failed, all would be lost despite her administrations.

_...Did I mention that she talked to Scott?_

_**Yes, you did.**_

_You're probably right, I just couldn't remember._

**_I bet. We both know you possess an eidetic memory, and you're the only one here who thinks you're funny. What about Rinoa?_**

_What about her?_

**_What was she doing?_**

_Well-_

Rinoa tried to concentrate on planning the upcoming Garden Festival but the memory of her brush with Scott's mind nagged at her. Despite her failure to completely grasp what had happened, just before the feedback hit she had felt something. Something part of whatever was wrong with the world around Scott. If only she could get a handle on it, maybe something could be done.

**_Are you sure that's how it went?_**

_Well, I simply assumed. I wasn't there after all._

**_I know I asked about her, but what does that have to do with anything?_**

_...What do you mean?_

**_It's pointless. It leads nowhere. She never fixed the Knot._**

_Yeah, but she thought about it._

_**You're supposed to be providing me with evidence that you should not in fact hang for all of this. You've done a remarkably poor job so far.**_

_I guess that's a matter of opinion._

_**You still haven't convinced me that you planned to do anything at all about it.**_

_I felt I should at least give Hyne the benefit of the doubt._

**_I never liked her._**

_Nobody did._

**_We're getting close to the reason I'm here. You knew about Scott, and you still didn't do your job._**

_I had my reasons._

**_Then I'd better hear them._**

_You just sat through all that and you still don't get it?_

**_All I get is that if things had gone just a little bit differently I wouldn't be here questioning you, I'd be beating the hell out of you. You know the Council doesn't take kindly to this crap._**

_Maybe I felt Hyne could handle it._

**_Hyne was a minor deity with a bad track record. If that's true, I'd leave it out of your excuse._**

_I think the Council would do well to judge me by the end results._

**_I think you would do well to kiss your ass goodbye._**

_Once a Kharadjai, always a Kharadjai. What are they going to do, impeach me?_

**_No Kharadjai has almost lost an entire universe before. You'd better think fast._**

_Before you start threatening me again, at least let me finish the story._

**_Fine. But hurry it up, I need to check on A21b in awhile._**

_Really? What did Brian do?_

**_Few problems with a black hole and a decaying orbit. Nothing compared to the shit you're mired in. Start talking._**

_When did you start using that sort of language?_

_**I'm having a bad day.**_

_Okay, so the Garden Festival was coming soon, and everyone was getting ready for it,_

And it wasn't so much that Scott didn't want to take part as the fact that he had no idea what to do. He wasn't particularly skilled at decorating or stage design, and he couldn't play any instruments. Not being much of a partygoer, he also wasn't sure what sort of food to serve. As such, he was fairly useless and spent most of his volunteered time hauling stuff around.

The stage had taken form and now whatever crew Selphie could pull together was trying to put together an acceptable sound system, a tall order for the inexperienced. So far, they had managed to get the subwoofers working and were now attempting to wire it all in to a main board. Wisely, Zell had been sent to see if one of the Garden's technical experts would oversee the setup.

Selphie was giddy in anticipation, nearing something Scott could only describe as hyper-giddy. He wondered if her diet consisted entirely of Oreos and Pixie Stixs, a private joke that quickly fell flat when he remembered that they didn't exist. Well, there would probably be some sort of equivalent anyway. So far all he had eaten was the basic hamburgerhotdog or salad with chips from the cafeteria, and a thing of nachos he had begged off a vendor in Deling. Those nachos hadn't been half bad. Scott suddenly found himself hungry.

Looking around the Quad, he found the most likely source of a quick fix in Nida, who was lounging on the stairs munching on some sort of snack bar. Scott strolled over to him and planted himself on the stairs next to Nida, who steadfastly ignored his obvious interest in the snack bar.

"So... Nida..." Scott began. "Whatcha eating there?"

"Nothing."

"I see. Got any more of that?"

"I dunno."

"You sure?"

"Probably."

"...Don't hold out on me man."

Nida sighed, reluctantly breaking off part of the bar bottom. Scott eagerly snatched it from him, savoring the taste. Sure, it was just granola, but it was something.

"So Nida," Scott mumbled through a mouth full. "When's this Festival going to be ready?"

Nida shrugged. "Selphie would know, I don't. But if things go the way they usually do, I'd say no more than another day, if not even. Once things get going it gets done quick."

"When's the Festival itself?"

"There actually isn't a set date, but it's always held somewhere in the same space of two weeks. One of those being this week. So if they do finish up, I'd say the day after tomorrow or the day after that."

"What do you do there?"

"It's a little different every year, but they always have a band or DJ to play music, the dance floor around the stage and a bunch of food tables."

"...I think I'll just hang around the food tables."

Nida laughed, shooting Scott a look he didn't like. "Oh no my friend, I think not. If I know Selphie, and I think I do, you're part of 'the group' now, and she'll make it her sacred duty to see you hooked up for the Festival. Mark my words, you are marked for slau- Oh shit, here she comes now!"

Nida jumped to his feet, walking quickly off towards the main dome. "Later!"

Scott glared after him as Selphie closed in. _Judas!_

"Hey Scott!"

"Oh... Hey.."

Selphie plopped herself down next to him, smoothing out her skirt. "Well, we're almost done! Just a few finishing touches and then I'll arrange the catering, and we'll be set for the dance! You looking forward to it?"

"Well, I-"

"Great! So tell me, who's the lucky lady that will be accompanying Mr. Keyor to the dance, hmm?"

"I wasn't-"

"You don't have a date!" Selphie squealed. "But you're so handsome! I'm sure there are a ton of girls who would love to go with you!"

"I don't know-"

"Don't worry," Selphie said, patting him on the back. "I'll find you the perfect match!"

"No, that's-"

"I could do nothing less for a friend! Any preferences?"

"Selphie, I-"

"Oh Scott!" Selphie laughed. "I'm flattered, but I'm already going with Zell!"

"I didn't mean-"

"Of course you didn't! So, no preferences then?"

"Son of a-"

"Okay then! Leave everything to me!"

With that, she skipped off, no doubt to find someone else to torture. Scott sighed, putting his head in his hands. _Fuck._


	24. Time Tomorrow

_"The Garden festival was one of those events that you half looked forward to and half dreaded. The cons were 'volunteering' to work on actually putting the whole affair together, the fear of getting a bad date and the added fear that your friends might force you into getting a bad date. During the weeks preceding the event everyone always tried to lay low. If you could make it past that trial time without problem, you were free to enjoy yourself at the party."_

_-_Irvine Kinneas, _The SeeD and the Sorceress_

A shut in.

That's what he was.

The whole fucking Garden was gearing itself up for a wild bash and he hid in his dim room, lifting weights like his life depended on it. The weights had been transferred from the gym for his private use under the bullshit excuse of, 'avoiding conflict with other students'. Really, he felt that a good fight would make him feel better. He needed to hurt something besides himself. He need something to distract himself from thinking. Books. Video games. Movies. Porn. Anything. Weightlifting was dull enough to allow his mind to work.

So boring.

Nothing to think about.

Nothing but-

_The gun flashed twice and he was momentarily dazed by the proximity, ears ringing with the piercing sound of the twin blasts. The brutal sound of impact soon followed and shiny gray hair mixed with brain matter and blood blew over the couch-_

"_Fuck!_"

The barbell flew across the room, smashing into the dresser and splintering several of the drawer fronts.

Seifer sucked in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, the memories blowing away with the air. He wouldn't go down that road again. He was stronger than that. Strong enough not to snap a second time.

There was a fighting spirit that drove him, that demanded he go against the grain. Oh, he would love to see the looks on everyone's faces if he strolled into the Festival with some babe on his arm. That would show them. The idea quickly fell flat since he knew there was no one who would consent to be his partner. Oh well. Maybe next time.

Right.

He had worked hard lately. On everything. On his workouts, training and tests. He didn't know why. Maybe he really felt this was his only chance at redemption, and that he should use it well. Maybe if he somehow pushed himself beyond the darkness he had slipped into he could find the light. Maybe he had nothing better to do.

The jarring buzz of the doorcom shook him out of his reverie, and with a grunt he pushed himself to his feet. After a quick look through the peephole, he resigned himself to the torturous few minutes ahead. Reluctantly, he keyed open the door.

"Hi Seifer!"

Selphie was, as usual, far too cheerful. Her mood gave him the exact opposite feelings. Now he wanted to break something even more. He didn't dignify her greeting with an answer.

"So, anyway," Selphie started, constantly hopping from one foot to the other, a small habit that drove Seifer mad. "As you probably know, the Garden Festival is coming up soon, and I need to take a roll call to see who's coming. Also, if you are coming, which I hope you are, it would be great if you would donate some small sum of gil to fund all of the hard work everyone has put into the whole-"

"Goddammit, will you stand still!" Seifer exploded, startling her out of her speech. She stared up at him, green eyes wide. Forcing himself to calm down, he settled back into 'impassive mode'.

"...Good."

Selphie nervously started again, making sure to stand completely still. "...So, I was wondering if you were coming..."

"No."

To his fury, she once again starting jumping back and forth. "Are you sure? It'll be great, we've got a real band from Balamb coming in, a big catering service, a bunch of fancy lights and the stage looks really cool this year-"

"No."

"But I promise you'll have fun if you just-"

"And again, no."

Selphie gave up, turning to go down the hallway. "Okay, but just remember I asked you myself!"

"How could I forget."

Seifer keyed the door shut and walked over to the dresser, studying the damage. Not too bad, only the bottom drawer was inoperable. There was nothing in it anyway. Checking the clock by his bed, Seifer saw he had half an hour before Trepe would be after him with more work. Sighing, he went to shower.

-

"...Den, Den come in. This is Serpent."

"Copy Serpent. Verify."

"McDonald's, Poppin' Fresh, Coca Cola."

"Copy Serpent. Status?"

"The party is gearing up. Lots of preparation outside visible, I saw what looked to be a catering service pull in and there's a lot of buzz on the street. In order to confirm I bought a ticket. We're good to go."

"Copy that Serpent. Follow you're extraction procedure to Timber. We'll have a car waiting for you there."

"Copy. Serpent out."

-

_...You're awake._

You already said that.

_Things haven't changed since then._

Why did you say it?

_Because you were doubting._

Who are you?

_It doesn't matter._

...I guess not.

Wait, then where's the tech?

_Right next to you._

I don't see him.

_What do you see?_

Nothing.

_But you're not sleeping._

I know. I died.

_No, you didn't._

Then what?

_Things are changing. You won't have to wait long._

For what?

_The end._

...Oh.

I hope it happens soon.

...Are you near me?

_Why?_

Maybe I could see you.

_No. You couldn't._

Can you get me out of here?

_I am here._

...I know, but can you get us both out of here?

_I am here._

You don't understand-

_No, you don't understand._

_I am here._

-

Scott nervously looked around the corner, scoping the area for any signs of Selphie. Clear. Taking a deep breath and keeping his head down, Scott walked quickly across the commons, trying to stick to whatever groups of people he could. Without incident he made it across to the dormitory entrances.

And of course just when safety was in reach, the telltale flash of yellow came barreling down the stairs and halted right in front of a dismayed Scott.

"Hey Scott!"

"Oh glory be, if it isn't Selphie."

"You bet!" She said, giving him her trademark 'v' for victory. "Guess what?"

"You've decided to let me be dateless."

"I've got a girl lined up for you!"

It didn't matter that he had been expecting it, his stomach dropped to his feet. No doubt Selphie had told this girl that he wanted to go to the Festival with anyone, which meant that unless he wanted to hurt someone's feelings, he was screwed.

"...Joy."

"Oh, c'mon! You'll have fun!"

"Just tell me who it is."

"Not until you smile!" She said, wagging a finger at him. "You don't want to make her feel bad, do you?"

A low blow. _Damn you Selphie. Damn you to hell._ But he didn't say it.

"Please, just tell me."

"It's that one girl you like, Michelle!"

"Sweet mother of God."

"You should go talk to her, I think she's filing stuff down in Storage. It's a room right off the Library, just ask one of the staff. Talk to you later!"

Of all the people he could have been forced to go with, it had to be someone he knew and actually liked. Now what lay ahead was not simple humiliation, but a mental ass raping. What was he going to do?

"What am I going to do?"

"What?"

Scott turned around to see Irvine walking up, heading towards the stairs. Irvine looked around in confusion.

"Were you talking to me?"

Scott shook his head. "Just muttering to myself."

"Ah. How come?"

"Selphie, uh... 'Helped' me get a date for the Festival."

Irvine winced sympathetically. "I know. I've been there. Well, actually, I haven't, but I've heard about it."

"What, she didn't bother you?"

"I get my own dates."

"I see."

"Hey, don't feel bad. Not everybody enjoys this kind of thing. You're just not a 'party' kind of guy."

"How is that possible? Back home I'm know as Scott 'Party-hearty' Keyor."

Irvine laughed, punching Scott in the shoulder. "I don't know then. Maybe it's just the air or something. Clearly, your party animal instincts have been dampened by interdimensional travel."

"Clearly."

"So... Are you going to talk to Michelle?"

"Crap. The word's out, huh?"

"Oh yeah. I'm afraid you'll be getting winks all day. Often from people you don't know."

"This is my burden to bear."

"'Fraid so man. Maybe if you try to have fun, you will."

"Maybe."

-

As far as Quistis could tell, the only good thing to come out of Festival week so far was that her Seifer troubles paled in comparison to the hectic activity. At least Seifer was only one man, if uncontrollable.

Business had always come before pleasure, and she always paid the price for this lifestyle come party time. She would rather stay alone in her office than go with some random stranger Selphie found for her. And it wasn't so bad, really. It was hard to miss what you never had. Hard, but not impossible. She found things were much more comfortable if she didn't think about it.

It was too much to hope that Selphie understood her feelings on the matter. So far she had avoided the irrepressible girl, but it couldn't last forever.

What if she enjoyed going with a blind date? What was keeping her from just trying to have a good time? _You don't know what a good time is Quistis. You never bothered to find out,_ she thought bitterly.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she shook her head and turned back to the paper work in front of her.

-

He was crazy. One hundred and ten percent out of his fucking gourd, he decided. Because there was no other explanation for why he was walking down the hallway in one of the levels in the women's dorms, searching for a room number he wasn't sure he wanted to find.

He tried to remind himself why he was doing this. Ah yes, pride. Anger. The need to show those self-righteous little bastards downstairs that he wasn't what they thought he was. Such great reasons, Seifer Almasy reflected, to ask Quistis to the Garden Festival.

She'd see right through him, he knew. At this point, he didn't care. He wasn't going to spend another goddamn night locked in his room, tortured by his own thoughts. He was going to the Festival, and he was going to grin like he didn't give a shit at every sideways look he drew, every muttered comment that followed him. But he couldn't go alone.

He reached out and hit the doorcom.

-

Quistis was startled from her half doze by the sudden buzz of her doorcom. She quickly rubbed her eyes, sighing. It was most likely Selphie, coming to her door in one desperate last ditch attempt to persuade her to go.

Standing on slightly unsteady feet, she crossed her room and keyed open the door to find the person she least expected looking back at her.

Seifer met her eyes for a second, his customary mocking grin nowhere to be seen. Almost solemnly, he nodded at her.

"Quistis," He choked slightly on the next words, but forced them out anyway. "I'd like you to go to the Festival with me."

Quistis spent a moment in stunned silence before her mind kicked into gear. She harbored no illusions on his intentions. This was a giant 'fuck you' to the rest of the Garden. He wasn't asking her to be his date. He was asking her to be his accomplice. And he was asking her to give him back whatever small measure of his pride could be salvaged by the presence of the two of them at the Festival.

Ironically, this opportunity was exactly what she had been looking for. Sometimes a girl found herself doing the right thing for the wrong reasons. This, Quistis reflected, was one of those times.

"Seifer," She said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'd be delighted to go."

-

Time now. Time for action. The ships were in motion, the men were onboard. The unnatural war machine had drawn its first breath and the battle cry had been sounded. Time enough for reflection later. Little time to succeed. And succeed they would.

Hendrow had not wanted to take part in the assault, but Julian had been adamant. While they wouldn't take part in the fighting, they would watch from offshore until the Garden was secure. Too close for Hendrow. He would be far more comfortable hearing a report about it later. Julian always had been a front man.

And now there was only to see if they would win.

The final test of everything they had worked to make happen. Hendrow tried to calm his fluttering stomach, and settled in for the ride.


	25. Time Today

_"Whenever most soldiers talk about battle, they always describe how indescribable it is, and how horrific. It's strange, but for me battle was only frightening in retrospect. During the actual combat it was always as if I was watching a movie starring some look alike. I experienced it vicariously, and only later did it come back real."_

_-_Scott Keyor, _Worlds Unknown_

_"Oh, I get it. You don't feel anything at all. You're the type of guy that two weeks from now, you'll be stopped at a traffic light and all this will hit you and when it hits, it'll hit hard. It'll hit you so hard that your heart will burst into a hundred pieces."_

-Homicide: Life on the Street

----------

Lights out, curtain call. This play that unfolds itself upon the vast stage of the Multiverse draws near to a close like all things do. The finale is uncertain, the future of many undecided. Reality is a harsh script, and the ending is rarely fairy tale. Between scenes Fate rewrites parts on whim, the Actors often adlib, and Time constantly rushes them to continue without rest. The favor of the audience is fickle and one bad improvisation can turn the style to tragedy. And it takes a skilled Actor indeed to successfully manipulate the outcome...

_----------  
_

_Now we're getting close to the finish._

**_It would appear that way, yes._**

_Pay close attention, because in awhile things will start moving very quickly, and some of it's confusing. After a certain point, I'm not sure what happened at all._

**_I suppose you'll blame that on Hyne?_**

_Actually, she performed quite well. What happened in the end was an inevitable result. Unavoidable._

**_Maybe it will help if you keep telling yourself that._**

_I'm not going to argue. The facts speak for themselves._

**_And they speak a rather damning testimony._**

_Just listen. It was mid afternoon, and the Garden Festival was looming up ahead that night. Selphie had given up on Quistis (unknowing of Quistis' true plans), Rinoa was trying to get Squall to wear something other than his SeeD uniform, Zell was trying to swipe some hotdogs ahead of time, Seifer was holed up in his room, and Scott was on his way to talk to Michelle._ _He had a bit of trouble finding the file room, but after some direction from a helpful Library assistant, he had found-_

The room through a small corridor in the back of the Library. You couldn't even see it unless you went around several bookshelves and wove through the study area. To say he was nervous was an understatement. He could barely breathe. His thoughts were alternately jumbled prayer and the desperate wish to be anywhere else doing anything else. Like going off Niagara Falls in a coffin. Conveniently packaged for the undertaker. Even this amusing thought couldn't make him smile. _Dammit._

There was a rattling coming from a door to the left. The rattling of file cabinets. Cabinets being opened and close by pretty, feminine hands. The kind of hands he would be afraid to hold, like touching a delicate sculpture. And there she was. In her civvies today, not uniform. Tight but not too tight jeans and a red shirt that accentuated her great- _I'm scared to death and I'm getting horny? _He was having a strange physiological reaction to his intense fear. No doubt it warranted some sort of further study but it really wasn't the time.

She looked up with at him and smiled, a brilliant smile that brought him close to collapse. He was momentarily distracted by the subtle curve of her lips. She had blowjob lips. He had no idea where that thought and term had come from, but somewhere deep in the attic of his mind he was certain a pervert was laughing. Surely, this was some mistake. She could not possibly want to go to the Festival with him. He was a loser. He was completely out of his league. He had no idea what to expect. So obviously, the unexpected occurred.

"Hi!" She said brightly, walking up to him still holding an armload of files. "So, was Selphie telling the truth? Did you... Want to ask me something?"

The hope in her eyes was too much. Whatever resolutions or intentions Scott might have had crumbled under that gaze. He collapsed like a house of cards.

"Michelle, would you like to go to the Garden Festival with me?"

The words came out easier than he had thought. He was rewarded instantly when her face lit like light bulb. She barreled forward to wrap her arms around him in an impromptu hug, not forgetting to set the files aside first, and all the blood that had been concentrated in a certain lower portion of his body quickly moved upwards to suffuse his face in a dark blush. The process began to reverse itself as his mind quickly assimilated which wonderfully soft parts of her anatomy were pressed against him.

"Of course!" She squealed, smile making his knees weak.

"Cool," He lamely replied. "Uh, I guess I'll come get you before show time... What dorm is yours?"

"Girls dorms, floor two. It's a only a few doors down, number 32."

"Okay. Uh.. I'll be there when it's time to go."

"Okay! See you then!"

Scott left with large feeling of relief. Now he had several hours with which to prepare himself for the night ahead. The first thing on his list being to ask someone about getting a suit or something. With this in mind, Scott went searching for Nida.

He found him setting up trays in the Quad for the catering. With the Festival only hours away, the Quad was complete, now a glittering and elegant party room. Only the food had yet to be put out, and it wouldn't be until just before the party starting.

"Hey," Scott called. "Nida."

Nida stuck his hand behind his back and gave a sort of wave gesture, not looking up from his work. Scott walked along side of him and peered over his shoulder.

"Trays?"

"I didn't volunteer, believe me," Nida grunted, forcing a container into a slot that seemed too small for it. "Another one of those days."

"I see. Who are you going with?"

"One of the Library girls, Rachael. I hear you scored a date with Michelle."

"You heard correctly."

"Nice!" Nida grinned. "She's a hottie."

"Indeed she is. Hey, I need a suit or something for tonight."

"Well, there are several places for that. But the best one is in Balamb, and you'll look cheap if you just borrowed a SeeD dress uniform. I'll drive you down there in awhile if you want. I should go anyway, since that really would be better than just wearing the uniform like I was going to."

"You cheap bastard. How could you do that to your date?"

"I don't know my date that well, but I'm intimately acquainted with my wallet."

"That makes a certain sick sense."

"Anyway," Nida abandoned the trays. "Lets head out before all the good ones are taken."

Scott had a brief horrifying image of himself in a Pepto Bismol pink suit. "Sounds like a plan."

_---------- _

_The last piece of Hyne's_ _puzzle was ready to be placed, and she could not wait until the time was closer. Now, while she still had enough power to accomplish everything, she reached out and with all her might pushed through the Knot. And then she was stopped._

_An unexpected anomaly. The Knot swirled around her and she couldn't choose a linear destination. Time was fluid and random. But she could sense what she needed. A weapon. Any one of them would do. She chose one, a weapon of some time past but still more than able to perform the task it was needed for-_

_----------_**_  
_**

**_Wait a minute._**

_What?_

**_Hyne wanted a weapon?_**

_Yes._

**_Then why did she go to another universe for it? There were plenty of weapons in her own._**

_You'll have to ask an Elder for a better explanation, but as I understand it, the deed had to be done with nothing but implements from the world of origination. Otherwise, if the Knot closed by the function of something unrelated, things might collapse entirely instead of just snapping back to the way they were before._ _It was a safety precaution rather than a necessity._

**_Interesting._****_And scientifically, nonsense._**

_Most of what we do is scientifically nonsense. Can I continue?_

**_Of course._**

----------

He ran.

The sounds of machine gun and rifle fire echoed through the woods, the constant chatter of weaponry all around. It was distant, but at any time the fighting could erupt anywhere.

Private Randall ran.

He took a right, veering off into thicker trees. He spotted a team of two men manning a sentry machine gun position, and jumped down into the hole. He grabbed one of the men's shoulders, shaking him. The man turned around.

"You guys Baker?" He asked.

"Jesus, no, Able. Head down the line and you should hit Easy, and then I think Baker is down there."

"Fuck," Randall muttered, hauling himself out of the hole. "Should've got a jeep."

"Hey, keep your head down buddy," One of the men yelled after him. "Jerry won't be just sitting out there forever."

It was cold. Bitterly cold. A distant booming met his ears and he looked off to his left, the low clouds lighting up with the flash of explosions. Bastogne was being hit again. The city was enduring a heavy pounding. The men outside were surrounded by five divisions of the enemy. With no reinforcements, and little equipment.

Things seemed desperate on December 22nd, 1944.

He was walking in deep snow without winter uniform. And without bearing. He left the Able line back in the distance and had completely lost track of his path. He slowed to a stop, heart pounding. The firing in the distance had stopped, and the silence was complete.

He jumped suddenly, convinced he had heard something to his right. He peered across the clearing. There was nothing there, but God knew anything could be sunk into the snow out here- there it was again, a soft rustling. He swung his Carbine off his back and gently disengaged the safety, crouching next to a tree. The Krauts had been closing in all around for the past two days. Every now and then, a few would slip through the line somewhere and run across-

The mistake of not moving behind the tree became abundantly clear when the black muzzle of Kar 98 lifted with its owner from concealment in a trench covered with snow. The barrel stood out starkly against the white backdrop. The click of the trigger was loud in the silence. His mind was perfectly clear. He knew he was dead.

The gun fired in dead accuracy towards his brain.

But Randall was already gone.

----------

"So," Nida began as they walked through downtown Balamb. "How did you manage a date with Tranell?"

"I'm big pimpin'."

"Seriously."

"Selphie set me up."

"Ohhh," Nida grimaced. "One of those."

"Yeah."

"Well, at least she found you someone good," Nida said as he started to turn down a smaller lane. "You're lucky in that respect."

"Sure."

The store was small, but all the suits hanging in the racks behind the wood counter looked clean enough. The various prices were displayed overhead like a menu at a restaurant, and Scott realized that he had absolutely no money at all. He was living on borrowed goods. He carefully broached the subject.

"I, uh, I don't have any money."

"It's cool, I got you covered."

"I don't know when I can pay you back..."

"Don't worry about it," Nida shrugged, fishing a handful of gil chips from his pocket. "Besides, I doubt your money would be of much use around here anyway."

Scott watched with interest, studying the chips for the first time. They were multicolored, made of durable plastic with various symbols on them and a number denoting the amount. A bar code was stamped into the back of each one.

"What kind of money do you guys use?" Nida asked, curious.

"Green bills."

"Green? What, like plants or something?"

Scott suddenly felt primitive. "Uh, no, paper. With cotton, I think. Makes a sort of really tough tissue. They're really detailed with all sorts of crap to make it hard to forge them. And they have pictures of famous politicians. We have plastic money too, just not, you know. Currency. Credit cards and stuff, those are plastic."

"Seems a little impractical. What happens if they get wet or torn?"

"You can dry them out. ...Badly. And if they tear they're worthless. But they make a lot of new ones all the time, and get rid of the old ones."

"Well, yeah, we do the same thing. Still, that would be weird carrying a bunch of paper around."

In his new surroundings, Scott couldn't help but agree. He leaned over the counter a little, checking out the selection. "Time to go penguin."

"What the hell is penguin?"

Scott made a mental note- _No penguins around here either. _"It's a bird. Well, sort of. It can't fly. It swims in really cold water, and it looks like it's wearing a suit."

Nida raised an eyebrow. "A bird that doesn't fly, swims like a fish and wears a suit."

"Yeah. And they shit all over their exhibits at the zoo."

"Sounds like a lovely creature."

"Actually, they're kind of cute, in a round sort of way."

Nida tried to imagine such an animal and failed. "Anyway, you see something you like?"

Scott shrugged, knowing he didn't actually possess real discerning taste when it came to suits. "I'm going to feel stupid no matter what."

"So, just a regular one for you?"

"Yeah. Nothing fancy."

"A good choice."

The money changed hands and soon they were each holding a tuxedo in plastic wrap. They stepped outside the shop and Nida held his up, examining it.

"You know," He said. "My theory is that your chance of scoring increases an entire ten percent when wearing one of these."

"Really? I would have guessed around nineteen percent."

"No, no, that's much too large an increase. They aren't that effective."

"I think you underestimate the tuxedo," Scott countered. "Combined with cologne, a fifteen percent increase, and well groomed hair and facial hair, a sixteen percent increase, that makes an even fifty. Personal charm and looks make up the other half."

"But that percentage doesn't hold up with statistics. Not that many guys get laid."

"Well, then you get deductions. Let's say, just for mathematics sake, that you somehow possess a one hundred percent chance of getting laid. Perfect appearance, and super charm. But then you factor in the music being played, decrease if it's just not a good song, the atmosphere, possible smoke and ambient noise and lighting, and the woman in question. If she isn't easy or playing hard to get, this vastly subtracts from the percentages. Depending on what weighs against you, you might even come out with a negative chance of scoring."

"Now we're making sense. Plus, your personal history with her or even lack of can count for or against you."

"Exactly. So after all our deductions and sensible percentages, we come to the conclusion that without forehand knowledge of a many myriad of details, the game of getting laid becomes impossible to predict."

Nida held up a hand. "Ah, but we _do_ know quite a bit about the rendezvous at hand. I think you and I stand a chance at calculating our success, although with a large margin of error."

Nida walked over to a bench and sat down, motioning for Scott to do the same.

"Okay, so we each have suits, so we each start with a solid nineteen percent," He began.

"Ninety percent of all statistics are made up on the spot."

"Just work with me here. A start of nineteen percent-"

----------

Apparently the saying, 'A watched pot never boils' also applied in, 'A watched sun never sets'. Hendrow could almost feel the seconds slip by with all the speed of a snail.

He was standing on the deck of a boat, a boat that was currently serving in the capacity of a landing craft. They were floating stationary off the coast of Balamb, just beyond sight of the land.

They would beach by a landmark identified as sort of cavern used as a test of new SeeD candidates. From there they would proceed under the cover of darkness, surround the Garden, and begin a quick entry.

The main body of men would secure the front entrance, then push as quickly as possible into the Quad to capture the gathering of SeeDs there. At the same time the remaining forces outside would scale the Garden and infiltrate it from the top down, emptying everyone that might be present down to the main floor where they too would be held in the Quad. All extra forces would maintain the perimeter to prevent possible escape.

The force assigned to capture the Quad would consist entirely of Earthside men to prevent as many casualties as possible, while all other forces would primarily contain members of Galbadian Special Forces and regular Army.

The plan was sound, Hendrow had to admit, and the chance for failure slim.

With any luck, it would work that way.

----------

Squall sighed, letting his hands slide off the keyboard. He knew he should finish the report, but he also knew he should be getting ready for the Festival.

Fall behind on his work, or face the wrath of Rinoa. Not much of a choice. But he had learned enough about relationships by now to know it was worth the effort. Getting to his feet, he crossed over into his room and opened the closet.

After renting a tuxedo for a few Festivals, he had finally given into convenience and bought himself one. He had let Rinoa pick it out for safety's sake. If it was up to him he'd show up in his leather jacket or even more preferably, not show up at all.

Ah, to be single again.

A line of thought he quickly dropped when he remembered what it was to be alone.

Anyway, by this point he was expected to be there, even if only as an authority figure. Like a Principal showing up at school events. But unlike a Principal, Squall enjoyed the popularity of being a living legend, although 'enjoyed' was not really how he dealt with it. Respect he could handle. Hero worship was like a rash or a bad rectal itch.

Just as his mind was so occupied Rinoa walked in. He glanced at the clock and was surprised at the time. He had been working longer than he had thought and she was out of her classes. She smiled and sat on the bed, most likely amused at the look he was giving the suit hanging innocently on its hanger, draped in plastic.

"Whatcha thinking about?" She asked, kicking off her shoes. Squall decided honesty wasn't the best choice, but the most amusing one.

"Rectal itching."

That raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I hate parties."

She stood and walked over to him, gently putting her hands on his chest. "I know. And if you really don't want to, we don't have to go."

Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. He could be dense when it came to the personal side of life, but he wasn't stupid. She loved the Festival. It was quite clear she was bracing herself to make a sacrifice for the relationship by ditching the Festival with him in the same way he was ready to sacrifice by going. Guilt wasn't long in coming, and he knew he could never take her up on the offer.

He was silent for a minute, still contemplating the dreaded suit. He looked at her and in his way, made it clear they would still be going.

"It won't be that bad."

She understood his need to rationalize it to himself and played along.

"No, it won't."

"All my friends will be there."

"Yes, they will."

"The food is good."

"Definitely."

"...You'll be there."

She kissed him softly on the mouth. "Absolutely."

A short game of repetition between them that made everything better again. And getting back to his original train of thought, it wasn't really the party or the company he wasn't looking forward to. It was the awe. Maybe if he buried himself in the back corner, hopefully behind the rest of his friends, no one would notice. That might work.

Or not.

_---------- _

_Scott Keyor. A man separated from all he has known by uncrossable boundaries, a boundary that has now been breached._ _Through time his desperation has faded, and he has almost come to accept the strange state in which he finds himself. But Mr. Keyor is about to take a journey, a journey not only through space and time, but through another zone. A zone we call, The Twilight Zo-_

**_That's quite enough out of you._**

_Hey, who's telling the story here?_

**_At the moment, neither of us. Stop wasting time._**

_Clearly, you have no taste in television._

----------

It was a scant few hours until the Festival began when Zell realized that he had simply assumed he was going with Selphie. The problem with this assumption came to him like a lighting bolt to his brain.

He quickly wracked his memory, searching through all of their recent conversations. He had to have asked her sometime. Had to have. How could he have forgotten to actually ask her after all this time? He _had _to have asked her.

He hadn't.

There was nothing to do but grit his teeth and face it. He was a hero dammit, he had faced Hell and high water for the fate of the world. And yet nothing seemed so frightening as begging Selphie, who in his mind was probably incensed, to go to the Festival with him. He just hoped she wasn't so mad that she would go with someone else. The thought sparked panic and he set out in a dead run.

"I _suck_!" He yelled, turning more than a few heads as he sped across the commons towards the Quad. He narrowly missed hitting Irvine, sliding on his heels in what he would have bet was an impossible maneuver, recovering and juking around Irvine to the left.

"Where's the fire, Sparky?" Irvine called after him. Zell didn't bother to turn around, and flipped the bird over his right shoulder.

When he entered the Quad he slowed to a stop. Moving nervously through the people there making the final arrangements for the night ahead, he spotted Selphie up on the stage, apparently giving a pep talk to the band. He stood in what he hoped was an unobtrusive position to the side, not wanting to interrupt. He was already in enough trouble.

The pep talk ended with a jump and skip from Selphie and a few rolling eyes from the band, and she hopped off the stage to find something else to micro manage. Swallowing hard, Zell took the opportunity.

Doing his best to saunter casually, he left his hiding spot and crossed the open space to her.

"Selphie!"

She turned around, face lighting up.

"Hi Zell!" She chirped, running up and throwing her arms around him. "What's up?"

Crunch time.

"I was just thinking, and..."

"...And?"

He blew out a breath. "I forgot to ask you to go with the Festival with me, and I was wondering if you would. ...Go. With me."

And she laughed. She _laughed_. He blinked.

"Of _course_ Zell!" She giggled. "I already knew we were going together, but it's so sweet of you to ask me!"

"...Oh."

"You're such a thoughtful guy!"

"I am?"

"Yes! Well, I'll see you tonight! Hope you like my dress, I picked it out just for you!" She said, almost, he thought, lasciviously.

With that she was bounding off to fulfill the rest of her Festival duties, and he was left gaping after her. He groaned and put his face in his hands.

He never knew anything.


	26. Hostage Reality

"_The real distinction is between those who adapt their purposes to reality and those who seek to mold reality in the light of their purposes._"

-Henry Kissenger

"_'Shoot to incapacitate?' Tell you what then, I want twenty bucks a limb but I'll do the heads for free._"

- Mercenary 'General' Reyland

_"Talk, this is One-Mike. Come in."_

_"Copy One-Mike, go ahead."_

_"We're in position. Front terrace is occupied by one Tango, stationed left behind the counter. Standing by."_

_"Copy One-Mike."_

_"Talk, this is One-Air. We're in position, standing by."_

_"Copy One-Air."_

_"Talk, this is One-Side. We're with Ten and in position. Standing by."_

_"Highground to One-Air. Tango nearing your entry on floor five. Exercise stealth options."_

_"Copy Highground."_

_"Talk to One-Open. Report."_

_"This is One-Open. We're nearing our position. ETA ten minutes."_

_"Copy One-Open."_

_"Attention all groups. This is Leader. The ships are now secure, and you will launching the attack shortly. Remember, shoot to incapacitate, and take as many prisoners as possible. Treat this as a police situation, but when the need arises don't hesitate to fire. Contain all prisoners in the area designated as 'Quad'. Good luck."_

-

In yet another brief moment of panic, Scott wondered whether or not Sorceress's could read minds, because he was having impure thought after impure thought, and if that was indeed the case then he didn't want Rinoa anywhere nearby while he was busily coveting Michelle's thighs.

Needless to say, Michelle looked stunning, and he was salivating. Heavily.

At the moment he was standing by the buffet under the pretense of getting something to eat, while in fact he was attempting to discreetly check her out at their table from a distance. The dress was some sort of blue shimmery thing with thin shoulder straps and a low back. Whatever. It wasn't the dress that was important anyway, but rather what it encased. And what it encased, to borrow a phrase, was looking 'supa fly'.

Good God. Did he just think of her as 'supa fly'? What the hell was that? Apparently he was slipping into some sort of pimp frame of mind he didn't known he possessed. _They say this Scott is a bad mutha- Shut your mouth! But I'm talkin' 'bout Scott... Then I can dig it!_

Taking yet another deep breath to fortify himself, Scott piled his plate high with assorted high fat snacks and set off back towards the table. On the way he was accosted by Nida, who looked like he was enjoying himself immensely. Nida grinned and slapped him on the back a little harder that Scott thought was necessary. He winced.

"Now that," Nida practically purred, shooting an appreciative glance towards Michelle. "Is why we put up with this dancing shit."

"Please don't tell me I have to put up with this dancing shit."

"It's up to you. But getting laid is a war, my friend, and concessions must be made to achieve that final sweet, sweet victory. Besides, from the way she's been looking at you all night an unconditional surrender is within your grasp. If I were you, I wouldn't jeopardize it._"_

"When you put it that way how can I say no."

"Do you _want_ to fuck this up?"

"If the urge to retreat is stronger than the urge to prevail, then the soldier cannot advance."

Nida quirked an eyebrow. "So the body is willing, but..."

"The heart is inexperienced and prone to bouts of failure."

"I believe in you."

"Then surely God is with me."

Nida laughed and swiped a chicken wing from Scott's plate, loping off into the crowd, no doubt to hook up with his potential all-nighter.

If only he were that lucky.

Well, he wasn't going to be making any time by just standing there. Girding his loins, and mentally asking them to behave, he went back over and took his seat next to her, not for the first time wondering exactly how it was that smile she gave him had him sporting instant wood.

That damnably arousing smile still plastered on her face, Michelle impulsively reached over and grasped his hand. "There you are, I was afraid you had slipped out on me," She teased him.

Small talk, Scott was afraid, usually eluded him. The feel of her small warm hand in his was highly distracting. He opened his mouth to make some sort of uselessly inane reply when his attention was once again pulled away as she crossed her legs. Why, he thought, why did something so simple draw his eyes like a magnet. There was something so subtly feminine about the motion he supposed, and the extra few inches of thigh it exposed through the slit in the side of the dress didn't hurt either.

Michelle tugged on his hand. "Scott?"

"Sorry," He gave a start. "I was thinking."

"What were you thinking about?" The look in her eyes obviously said she hoped it was her.

Feeling like there was no point in struggling further against the current, Scott decided to confirm her hope only to be silenced as she crossed her legs again. The urge to speak was temporarily submerged as he wrestled with the need to plant his face between her legs. Considering the location and circumstances, he didn't think it would go over too well if he went down on his date underneath the table cloth.

Tempting though. Very, very tempting.

"Us," He desperately blurted. "I was thinking about us. It's nice to be here. Uh, with you." And, he mentally added, with your vagina. I'm really glad we could be here with your vagina tonight, it's been great.

"Yeah," She sighed. He choked back an entirely inappropriate laugh as she seemed to respond to his silent deranged joke.

He could tell it was going to be a long (no pun intended), and hard (what the hell was wrong with him?) night.

-

He was not, under any circumstances, going to hold her hand. However, the situation and his own gut reflex to stick to everyone at the party demanded he at least stand close enough to make it clear he was in fact her 'date', minus all the usual connotations of the word, such as friendship or affection. The looks they had received upon entering the ballroom had been deeply satisfying, a feeling he had been hard pressed to remember. He would have given anything to erase the past decade of his life. But he'd settle for shocking the hell out of this year's batch of Garden Festival Attendees. So far it looked like he had succeeded on that score.

Quistis was wearing some sort of slinky red thing, an inexplicable female device that somehow made her look taller. Her new height was an optical illusion only though, and Seifer smugly used his elevated vantage point to look down the front of her dress at all opportunities, not so much out of lust than the fact she was well aware what he was doing, but her pride and practically combative stubborn tendencies when it came to him prevented her from telling him to stop.

They were haunting a corner of the room by one of the large balcony windows. Seifer was in some strange way proud of the fact that they were both cool and collected enough to stand next to each other without looking completely uncomfortable. Quistis was sipping sort of girly drink while he was wishing for some of the hard stuff, standing silently as the occasional student or friend talked to her. They of course all studiously ignored him, and while she was otherwise occupied he leered at the small clusters of Trepies that stood awkwardly around them, not brave enough to approach Quistis while he hovered nearby.

All in all, it wasn't the disaster he had imagined. He still could have used a drink though.

Naturally it was no sooner that he had thought that when Zell strode over to them, his face dark. Seifer kept his expression blank, wishing again for that drink.

Zell took Quistis' arm, glaring forcefully at Seifer. "Quistis," He grated through teeth that were all but clenched. "Would you care for a dance?"

The last place Quistis wanted to be caught was between Zell and Seifer, but refusal could result in a potentially dangerous situation, judging by the number of veins standing out on Zell's forehead. She didn't at all want to be dragged to one side or the other of their feud, as her relationship with Seifer was tenuous enough as it was. Sighing quietly, she handed her drink to a blessedly silent Seifer and followed Zell out onto the floor.

It didn't take him long to get to the point. "What the hell are you doing Quistis?" He hissed as they slowly circled in the age old waltz.

"He needed a date, I needed a date," She explained carefully, as if talking to someone down in a hostage situation. "We decided to go together."

Zell's right eye twitched involuntarily. "That's so great how you can pretend that it's so fucking _normal _for you be standing over there with _him_-"

She had hoped to avoid this sort of situation but her anger was building at his unthinking accusations. "I think you need to calm down, Zell."

"It's Seifer, Quistis, Seifer!" Zell was on the verge of explosion. "How the fuck could you even _think _about coming here with him? There are so many other guys who you could have come with-"

"But none of those other men asked me, Zell," Quistis said coldly. "Seifer did. There are other reasons, but frankly I don't feel like explaining them to you." She let go of his hands and stepped back. "I'm not going to have this fight with you in the middle of the Festival."

She turned and started walking back to the corner where Seifer was still waiting. Zell took two angry steps to follow her when he was intercepted by Selphie, who grabbed his arms and hauled him back to the dance floor, whirling him around to shoot a worried look at Quistis over his shoulder. Quistis returned the look gratefully, knowing Selphie would keep Zell in check for the rest of the night. She didn't need any distractions since she would be doing the same for Seifer, although he had been surprisingly calm so far.

Seifer silently returned her drink, which she proceeded to finish in two gulps, much to his amusement. He idly wondered if the ice sculpture standing next to him would melt if she drank enough liquor. Some devil within him quirked his mouth up in a small smile, feeling some small need to at least pose the question. "Do you want to dance?"

The look she gave him was wary and questioning. He hadn't sounded mocking, but it could be difficult to tell with Seifer, especially this new introverted Seifer. "Do you?"

He shrugged. "Not really."

Her gaze returned to the party swirling around them as she reached and hooked another drink off a passing tray. "Then let's not."

-

Selphie sighed to herself, resting her head against Zell's chest as they moved back and forth in a slow dance. She knew without looking that he was still glaring at Seifer, angry both at him and at Quistis for a perceived betrayal on her part. Selphie herself didn't understand why Quistis had come with Seifer, but she wasn't going to allow Zell to make a scene just to satisfy that curiosity. She tried to ignore the situation and enjoy the feel of his strong hands on her waist, but his body was obviously tense against hers, and she felt with not a little annoyance that he might try to pay a little more attention to her.

"Zell," She said, moving her head to look up at him.

"Yeah," He replied, but didn't look down to meet her eyes. She frowned.

"Zell!"

"What Selphie?" He said, this time looking at her but still obviously distracted. Rather than get on to him about it she decided to try a different tack.

"Can't you just forget about them for now?" She said softly, pressing herself closer against him. "Let's just enjoy the Festival. I put a lot of work into making this happen, I'd hate to see it go to waste." She noted with some satisfaction that he now looked somewhat guilty.

"I know Selphie, but I just don't get how she could- could," He faltered as she placed a soft kiss against the side of his jaw, the touch of her lips against the sensitive skin making him shiver slightly. "Well, you know.."

Selphie rolled her eyes. "She's standing over there in the corner Zell, not fucking him in public."

"Selphie!" Zell was a little shocked at her words.

"Oh, you can say things like that but I can't?"

"No. I mean, no of course you can, just, you usually don't," Zell stuttered. "I don't know, I just never imagined you doing that."

"You never imagined me fucking?" Selphie said innocently. "That's strange, I often imagined you."

"Saying that Selphie! Hyne, you trying to kill me?" Zell nervously looked to the closest couple, trying to see if they had overheard. He thought she had picked a hell of a place to talk dirty to him. The middle of a dance floor was not the greatest location to become obviously aroused.

Selphie knew she should probably stop but didn't really feel like it. It was her party, and she'd flirt if she wanted to. She pouted appealingly. "So you never fantasized about me Zell?" She saw with a certain pleased detachment that he had begun to sweat.

The collar of his suit suddenly seemed too tight. "I- I don't think this is really the place to talk about this."

"So that means no?" Selphie did her best to look sad. "But I thought you wanted me, Zell."

In truth, he was thinking the space behind the heavy curtains over the balcony windows would be a great spot for a quick shag session. "I do, Selphie, you know I do baby," He said, trying out the pet name. It earned him a raised eyebrow and he decided to put the term on the back burner. "But we are at a party and all, I don't think this is the best place to prove it."

A good enough reply for now, she felt. But she'd be sure to pursue the question later. Laying her head back on his chest, she hummed contentedly and continued to move to the soft music. Zell lowered his head and pressed his face to her sweet smelling hair, glad of the reprieve from the difficult questions. She really did look gorgeous tonight, he thought to himself.

"Selphie," He said quietly. She raised her head and her luminous eyes met his own. "Tonight, you really look-"

She never found out what she looked like, as his compliment was drowned out by the cacophony of shattering glass.

-

The upper floors were dark and silent, and the only sign that something was happening in the dim Garden was the faint roar of the party below. The floor tiles gleamed in the low lighting and the click of his boots seemed amplified on the cold tile floor.

The door to the classroom clicked open and he peered inside, flipping on the lights and scanning the area before darkening the room again and closing the door, locking it behind him. Gerce wasn't all that fond of parties, so he didn't mind this extension of his usual janitorial duties that much. He was making his rounds on the upper stories, checking the empty classrooms for any students that might have decided to sneak out to do any number of things.

Danger.

He had been a soldier once, but that was a long time ago now. He was an old man, getting older, and he was glad of the work he was given in the Garden. The hours weren't bad and it was easy enough, especially since it was his job as Supervising Custodian to give the hard jobs to the other janitors. He didn't think his back could handle it anymore anyways.

A familiar door on his left caught his eye as he passed it. Instructor Trepe's room, he thought. A nice young lady, never looked down on him like some of the other teachers. He knew she kept her room locked at all times, after all those incidents where some of her personal items had been stolen. He shook his head. Poor girl shouldn't have to deal with crazy attention like that, these Trepies and such. He'd pass her room over like usual, no use in disturbing her things. He moved past the door.

Danger.

He stopped, frowning. His skin was crawling, the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. Why? It was a feeling he could place from a long time past, when the world had been a crazier place. The creeps, they had called it in the Regulars. He could remember that feeling, in the forests when they would climb up in the trees. Those damn eyes would slide over him and he knew, just somehow knew they were watching. Things usually went bad after that. The good Hyne knew he had spent enough nights trying to forget how bad.

Then he heard it. A soft scraping noise, like something being dragged across glass. Coming from Trepe's room. He retraced his steps, pausing just outside the door. There is was again. A quiet, squealing rasp. Probably just some stupid kids writing cuss words on the windows while everyone was at the party.

Then why did it scream of something darker?

He may have been old, but his hand was steady as he reached under his shirt and gripped the handle of his Carver knife. It had been many a year since he had pulled the knife with the intent to use it, but the skills were burned into the back of his mind like so many things. He had earned them, and the knife. He had never told anyone at the school, content to leave his past and the knife buried. But he had been a Carver, and he had slipped through the wet leaves like a cat to strike where spells could not save a man, where a channeled Sorceress's power was no protection from his sharp blade. His knuckles whitened momentarily as he vividly recalled the feeling of a man's life blood spilling over his fingers, pouring from cleft in his neck. He had been feared once, like all the other Carvers. And tonight, he trusted his instincts, however aged they were, and moved with a deeply remembered grace to flatten himself against the wall.

The door to the classroom slid open.

And a man dressed in black stepped through, assault rifle cradled in his hands.

There was no hesitation.

Gerce swung the heavy knife upward with full force, deftly rotating his wrist with a subtle movement that sliced cleanly through the man's throat. The man in black collapsed with a choked gurgle, feet kicking in agony.

He instantly withdrew to take cover, no time to ponder why there was an armed man in black entering the Garden through an upper level window. The moment he had killed the man the others within had warned him of their presence with several muffled swear words and what sounded like '_One-Air Three down!_'.

Sliding with his back to the wall away from the entrance he slapped down the button to close the door, then smashed his blade through the mechanism in hopes of jamming it shut. His bones already ached with the strain but he was back in the brush, trained to kill like only a few could ever know. Without waiting to see if he was successful, he spun around and moved in complete silence, vanishing into the shadows of an alcove.

There were too many, he thought with dismay as more men filed out of the door. He had not been successful in jamming it. He would never be able to reach the stairwell with all of them. Maybe once in his life he might have done it but he was an old man now, and those day were long gone.

Perhaps, he thought slowly, perhaps they were gone. Those poor kids, downstairs. They didn't know. He knew that was why these men were here, SeeD had many enemies. His grip on the knife gradually tightened. Those days might be gone, but he could still have one last hour. He would buy some time.

He was not afraid. He had expected to die as a Carver should, with his knife in his hand and the blood of his enemies running deep. And now he would, it just took him a little longer to reach that point than the rest of his company. Death was an old friend, and it was Gerce's turn to take his hand. To die with honor, like he should have those many years ago.

The second soldier to die had time only to see an old man with cold killer's eyes before the knife cut through his neck. Before his body had even hit the floor Gerce had whipped a backhand slice through the next man's neck. It was a dance, he remembered. He was detached from the carnage he caused, never pausing, smoothly transitioning from one blow to the next. He would die when he reached the end of this group, he reasoned, when the distance between the last man and the next was too great to cross.

It was a matter of moments before that inevitable ending occurred. The last man of the group had his gun kicked from his hands and his life reft from him as the Carver knife slipped through the thin flesh of this windpipe. The second group had emerged from the next door down, watching with disbelief as the entire other unit was cut down with a terrifying efficiency. The display was almost hypnotic in nature, a deadly show of power. Gerce was pleased at the looks of stunned horror upon their faces, wishing that he was still in his prime so they could see what a Carver at his best looked like.

Then the leader of the second team gathered the presence of mind to raise his weapon and fire, sending Gerce spinning to the floor.

There was no pain, surprisingly. Gerce experienced a quick moment of panic, but once he felt the familiar weight of the Carver knife in his hand, he relaxed. This moment had been a long time coming. It was only right, that he should die this way.

Gerce died with a small smile on his face, his knife in his hand and the blood of his enemies running deep.

-

Squall had been dancing with Rinoa (though at any later time he would deny it) when the first crash echoed over the noise of the party. He had turned, thinking someone had dropped a plate. This notion was dispelled as a narrow metallic cylinder rolled to a stop in front of him, glass shards skittering across the floor from the window it had been thrown through. A bolt of recognition shot through him.

Flashbang.

Squall squeezed his eyes shut and threw his arm over them a split second before the canister disintegrated, followed by the blasts of a few others that he hadn't seen. His quick thinking saved him from the blinding flash but his head pounded with the tremendous roar and his hearing dissolved into white noise.

Removing his arm, he looked up just in time to see the olive drab orbs of grenades sailing over the crowd.

Rinoa was still next time him, clutching her head in pain, mouthing words he couldn't hear. He grabbed her and pulled her down to the floor, rolling over on top of her. He still couldn't hear the detonations, but he could feel them. Not fragmentation grenades, thank Hyne. Concussion. Anyone who wasn't already on the floor was flattened. His chest compressed and the air was painfully forced from his lungs.

The room was choked with dust and smoke, and Squall's vision blurred as his eyes began to water. He blinked quickly, trying to clear them. He felt something cold bounce off the back of his neck, and realized that the windows, or what was left of them, were shattering inwards. The now empty holes in the walls were quickly filled by men in black BDUs, assault rifles and submachine guns cradled in their black gloved hands.

He knew that he was one of the few SeeDs in the room still capable of resistance, the majority of the others present in the room still struggling to recapture their breath. He needed to buy some time for a few others to recover so they could repel the attackers. Casting Protect and Shell on himself and Rinoa, Squall hauled himself to his feet and began to summon Shiva, praying he had enough time to do so. The room seemed to quiver, and he felt suspended as if he were underwater. The transparent orbs circled his head before dispersing, and the summon began.

The column of ice broke through the floor, shattering the polished wood and sending splinters flying through the air. Squall shook his head, trying to see past the illusion. A summon only affected its target, and while it appeared to be destroying everything in its path the environment would be unaffected once the summon faded.

The pillar split in two and Shiva emerged. The men pouring through the windows froze in awe and terror at the Ice Goddess who had risen from the floor, glaring at them imperiously. It was one thing for them to know they would be unaffected. It was quite another to believe it in the face of such power. Shiva raised her arms almost lazily, then frozen death spewed forth.

Later, Zell (who had been struggling to his feet with Selphie) would recall the strange invocation uttered by one of the soldiers closet to him.

"Oh Jesus."

The ice convalesced and hardened with a will of its own, and within seconds the enemies were encased. To Squall, standing invisible just outside the path of destruction, it seemed like some hideous diorama, little men in black posing in a sea of ice. Then as quickly as it had come, the ice faded.

And the men continued undaunted.

There was no time for disbelief. Squall kicked over the table closest to him and dove behind it, pulling Rinoa with him. The summon had given many of the other SeeDs time to recover, and the wave of attackers were met with a wall of spells. Fires blacked the floor and scorched the walls, ice exploded in crystalline conflagrations, lighting crackled and roared through the air to twist and burn everything it touched.

But none of it harmed a single invader. Squall's heart sunk within his chest as the men raised their strange weapons to return fire.

The first casualties began to drop as the bullets smashed through wood and ornate glass, sending the splinters and dust of both thick through the air. The invaders were not without losses- several of them had been hit by hurled objects or dropped in close quarters combat with those SeeDs that had managed to close the distance. But Squall knew that if they decided to truly open fire it would be a slaughter. With their magic rendered useless the ranged offensive capabilities of the SeeD forces were all but gone.

When the guns at last fell silent, six SeeDs lay dead and thirty-two were wounded.

-

Irvine was intimately familiar with firearms. He knew their make and method, all the types and models, could quote their rate of fire and how many rounds a specific magazine could hold. All this knowledge was not comforting in any way at the moment, for two reasons. One, he could not identify any of the weaponry held by the enemy. Two, he knew exactly what his face would look like if the man pointing his gun at it pulled the trigger.

Helpless with hands in the air, Irvine waited like everyone else did, because the enemy was waiting. What they were waiting for he was not sure, but infrequently there was gunfire on the upper floors, and it was clear that these men were also penetrating the building from the top down. They were waiting for the all clear.

Irvine scanned the room. The background noise was a mixture of constant dim radio chatter from the soldiers and the soft groans of the wounded. The ones in really bad shape were pale and silent. He glanced worriedly towards the far corner window where Selphie was crouched over Zell, who was breathing fast and heavy, his face covered in a sheen of sweat. He had snapped the neck of one of the intruders with a spin kick before they had fired on him, and Irvine wasn't sure where or how many times he had been hit. His bleeding was under control since Selphie had slipped him a Curaga spell, but when the soldiers had seen the green and white light congeal around him they had brought their weapons to bear on her, making it clear that magic would not be allowed.

Squall hovered over Rinoa who was sitting on the floor, still in shock from the look on her face. When the first shots had been fired Rinoa had unleashed her Sorceress power, bombarding the incoming forces with spells at an incredible rate and power. For some reason they had singled her out though, and despite her rampage they never returned fire, instead surrounding her until she realized her offense was having no effect. Squall's face always looked cold to those that couldn't read him, but now it might as well have been carved from stone.

Quistis was clutching her ankle, slumped near Seifer who was cradling a pierced hand. The pain he was in didn't dull rage filled glare he was fixing on the solider nearest him.

Scott was next to Michelle on the floor, propping her up against one of the chairs. She looked like she had taken a particularly bad hit from either a flashbang or the concussion grenades, or both, and her head was lolling on her shoulders, the whites of her eyes showing a little more than they should and blood from her nose soaking the front of her dress.

SeeD training. That was the key here. In a situation like this, the best option was to wait for opportunity. Unfortunately, all the best plans of action didn't involve more than one or two armed assailants. It would be a little hard to slip away unnoticed standing in the center of the room, especially with all the exits guarded. And all the hand to hand combat skills in the world wouldn't help when every enemy wasn't within your reach and almost everyone who could help you was debilitated.

As far as he could tell, this was currently a no win situation.

-

Once again, as was becoming far too common these days, Scott was out of his depth. Except this time it was serious.

And possibly fatal.

No.

_Probably _fatal.

He was also having an epiphany. There was no way to relate the information to anyone around him, but he had of course instantly recognized the weapons wielded by the assailants, a hodgepodge collection. Mp5-A5. M-16A2. M-60E3. HK G3A3. The occasional AK-74 and even a Sterling. The man closest to him was holding a SPAS-12. Pump or semiautomatic shotgun with an effective range of 50 meters, seven rounds. These weapons were definitely not native. And thus neither were the men holding them.

It was apparent that he was not alone after all. But given the circumstances, he wasn't sure he wanted to say anything to the rest of the home team.

His chain of thought was broken when the soldiers broke out into sudden motion, forcing everyone to their feet. One of them stood out in front, indicating the exits. His voice was slightly accented with what Scott thought was something South American.

"Everybody to the main entrance, let's go!"

Gingerly hauling Michelle to her feet, Scott complied with everyone else.

The soldiers herded them all into the concourse, grouping them in the middle and surrounding them in a circle of firepower. Scott started praying that they didn't plan to simply open fire on everyone in what would surely be a massacre.

As if on some invisible cue, the ranks of soldiers covering the entrance parted, and a group of men strolled through the opening. Then Scott received the biggest shock of the night yet.

The man in the middle was familiar to him.

His mind made the connections. He had come to know of Julian Foss during an operation for the FBI. The covert military team he had been a part of had been on loan from the DOD, requested in a sting operation to intercept several shipments in Silicon Valley, busting a ring of companies commandeering stolen overseas technology. Julian Foss had been the suspected head, the companies in question fronts for TAA. While the sting had been successful in recovering the technology for its rightful owners, the trail of evidence had never led back to Foss or TAA.

And now here he was, in the flesh. Scott had the sudden sickening thought that perhaps GPSS had been part of TAA all along. Had this entire thing been a ruse? Was he nothing more than a living crash test dummy, thrown into another dimension to pave the way for an invasion?

The turmoil in his mind was stopped cold as Julian drew a pistol, cocking it. He looked over the assembled crowd with eyes that looked more like granite. Then he shrugged apologetically.

"I find this distasteful myself, but... In order to kill a snake, the quickest is to cut off its head, you understand. I apologize for this necessity, and will not hand off the responsibility to one of my men. No, this deed is required of me."

Julian pulled back the hammer of his gun, and shot Squall through the forehead.


	27. Time Again

At some point, Scott realized, he must have lost his hearing, because Rinoa was screaming but he couldn't hear a thing.

It was also odd, he could see, that nobody was moving. Of course, neither was he.

In a matter of seconds the darkness blotted out the sight of Squall lying dead on the floor.

-

It was raining.

Simple a statement to make, it would seem, but the embodiment of the scene that lay before him.

He stood on a pile of broken mortar, raindrops splashing and dribbling down the cracked and worn lines of what might have been a great structure. Before him rose the silhouette of a hulking shape, blotting out the sky for several hundred feet, what surely must have been a mighty monument, but still fragile as anything created by man. Broken girders framed a collapsed roof, sticking out at jagged angles towards the gray sky, looking for all the world like a mouth screaming in final agony. And all around him were other littered pieces of destruction, offering no hint as to what they may have been.

As he walked towards the monolith, he began to see twisted walls and sloped floors covered in bricks, walling, shingles, and glass. Pushing past these obstructions, he reached the center: a hollow, burnt-out gutted space seared by unimaginable fires. On the ground before him lay an object, a large sign, with inscriptions on it, words smeared by soot or broken by ways unknown. He could decipher one or two: Library, Cafeteria, Quad...

What happened here? What forces broke this place, turning it into the debris-ridden skeleton of what it once was?

Why was he in the middle of a destroyed Garden, and how had he come to be here?

Everything in his life of late had been a question without answer.

Scott cupped his hands around his mouth, the rainwater dripping off the tips of his fingers.

"Hello?"

The shout echoed briefly, before fading back into the soft roar of the rainfall. Shoulders slumped, Scott sat on the edge of a broken column, dazed and confused. He was pretty sure he had just been in the middle of this very building, but it hadn't been destroyed, and it hadn't been raining. Squall had been shot. There were men with guns everywhere. And now he was alone in a pile of ruins.

His solitary contemplation was broken by soft voice behind him, and the unmistakable prod of a cold gun barrel into his back.

"Stand up. Keep your hands where I can see them. No funny stuff."

Slowly, Scott complied, not daring to try and look over his shoulder.

"You fucking Krauts should have taken my gun. Now you're gonna squeal, my little sharfshutze."

Still moving slowly, Scott pivoted to face his assailant. The man was slightly shorter than him, pale, with close set green eyes and a wide mouth. He was clothed in a drab green jumpsuit, a large pack resting on his back and a webbed helmet of the same color on his head. The outfit was unmistakable. He was dressed like a World War II GI.

Like a goddamn World War II GI.

It was too much. Scott couldn't hold back the hysterical laughter that bubbled up out of him. So he didn't. He laughed, laughed until tears ran down his face and mingled with the rain water, the peals of the sound reflecting up and down the walls of the structure until he was out of breath. The GI simply stared at him.

"I'm sorry," Scott gasped. "But I can't tell you how fucked up things are right now."

The gun barrel lowered slightly. "You're not a German."

"No," Scott said, hysteria fading. He wiped his face with his still raised hands. "Who are you?"

"First Class Private Randall, 35-367-907."

Name, rank and serial number. Just like the movies.

"I'm Scott Keyor," Scott replied, holding out one hand to shake but keeping the other raised. "And as of late, my life is a joke."

There was nothing to do but sit and compare stories, two men with nothing in common but the method of arrival to this strange place. The rain seemed ceaseless and they took shelter under a fallen slab of concrete.

"So," Randall said, using his trench shovel to clear a small space to sit. They did so, shivering in the damp chill, and Randall dug through his pack, handing Scott a ration bar, which he accepted. He eyed it warily, unsure of how edible it really was. He also got the distinct impression that Randall wasn't taking him all that seriously. "This 'Hyne' thing, you think that was what brought us here?"

"Probably."

Scott bit into the bar, grimacing at the taste but eating it anyway.

"Then I guess I owe it some thanks. I'd be on my way back home in a box if I wasn't here."

"Mm. Yeah, I know what you mean-"

_Listen well, for there is not much time._

"Shit."

Randall's eyes were wide. "What the hell was that?"

"That God I was telling you about."

_Do not make me impress my power, Outsiders. Simply listen, and listen well._

Randall's ration bar dropped from his shaking fingers. "Jesus!"

_No, I am not He. I am Hyne. And you will do my bidding._

Scott nodded in resignation. "I'm listening."

_I have brought the other here, this soldier of the past so that you may use his weapon for your purposes. You will need it to reverse what has been wrought by you and your kind. Soldier, give him your instrument._

Randall didn't move, eyes still darting wildly about the small confines of the makeshift shelter. Scott sighed, simply reaching over and pulling the gun from Randall's limp fingers.

_Right now, Outsider, you are in the Future. This is the future that would be seven of your years from the time I took you from. This must not come to pass._

Scott shook his head. "It's too late. The Garden is theirs. They killed Squall."

_It is not too late by the virtue of my plan. I would have you know that at this very moment, it is within my power to send you back to your home._

No. It could never be that easy. "What's the catch."

_The 'catch', Outsider, is that I will do no such thing. I have the power to send you back to your world, or the power to send you back seven years into mine. I cannot do both. So do not doubt, that you will do as I require of you or you will be left in this bleak future to rot as mortals do._

"Rather petty of you."

_There is nothing petty about the destruction of a universe._

"So how the hell do I reverse everything with an antique M1 Carbine?"

_I have prepared for this moment. At this moment in time, seven years past, everything has come into order to save my universe. Their portal has ruptured, eliminating the means of transport. The rupture has accomplished many things, but the most important of these is that now the other Outsiders have devolved into Knots like you._

"A what?"

_A Knot. A tear in the fabric of the cosmos. The tear that surrounds you is slowly destroying my world._

"Then why the fuck did you make more of them? A lot more, I might add."

_Because by the time the many other Knots would accomplish their true damage, they will be gone if my plan succeeds._

Scott's head was reeling, trying to put the concepts together. "I don't get it."

_You are a Knot, and now all the other Outsiders are Knots._ _You are the largest Knot, the originator, and I manipulate you only at the risk of all. I will send you back to the Garden with your weapon, to the moment before one of my children, the one you call Squall was killed. You will destroy the head Outsider. You will not have much time to do so. Make sure you do it well. The death of one with result in the collapse of all. The Knot will explode, and consequently so will all others._

"Which means I will also explode. What happens then?"

_If you should succeed, I will use the last of my power to prevent the Knot around you from destroying itself in payment of your act. If I am strong enough to do this, the Knot will be propelled by the bottled energy into a cosmos unpredictable._

"So I'll die."

_No. The Knot will travel until the energy is gone, then it will settle._

"So I could end up absolutely anywhere. Not home."

_It is that or die, Outsider._

The panic settled deep in his gut. "Oh no. Oh, fuck no."

_There is no time for your fears. We must act now._

There really were no good choices. He would live, but he couldn't know where. What if death would be preferable to the world he found himself in? But this world held nothing for him either. And his friends would die because of him. It was no win, no matter what.

But maybe sometimes, when there was only one choice, it was time to accept it.

"I always wanted to go out in a blaze of glory."

_I will put in a good word for your soul. Now stand in the-_

"Wait, wait!" Randall choked, snapping out of his Hyne-induced stupor. "What about me?"

_You have served your purpose. Begone._

And he was. Scott blinked, disconcerted by Randall's sudden disappearance. "You didn't kill him, did you?"

_No. I have placed him in a transit world until I have the strength to send him home. He will be cared for. Now, stand in the open, and prepare your weapon. It is time to set this right._

Time indeed.

-

"Everybody to the main entrance, let's go!"

Scott gasped, his vision clearing from what he perceived to be a bright flash of light. The situation that met his eyes was familiar. He was standing on the bridge from the elevator to one of the upper stories, rifle clutched in his hands. His mind raced as he remembered the precise order of the events that had happened, or rather, what would happen.

Julian would be standing in the center of the main entrance. He looked at it over the edge slowly, trying not to draw the attention of the guards there. This was a good spot for shooting, but he would be spotted.

He also knew that soldiers were coming in from the top down, and would no doubt see him from the upper connecting hallway. There was only one obvious way to go.

He slipped into the elevator doors, letting them gently close behind him. He looked up, and sure enough, there was a hatch on the top. Gingerly snapping the latches, he slid the hatch open and clambered out on top of the elevator.

The shaft was surrounded by glass, but it was partitioned, with tiny slats. That would be his field of fire. Laying down on top of the elevator, he waited.

The soldiers herded them all into the concourse, grouping them in the middle and surrounding them in a circle of firepower.

Scott watched as his friends came to a stop. To his relief, he didn't see himself. Which didn't make sense according to time travel as he understood it. Then again, this was all being orchestrated by a God. More impossible things had happened.

As if on some invisible cue, the ranks of soldiers covering the entrance parted, and a group of men strolled through the opening. Scott's finger tightened on the trigger. He still waited for Julian to come to a complete stop. He might not get a second good shot. He couldn't miss. He decided to aim for a broader target and shoot for the heart.

Julian drew a pistol, cocking it. He looked over the assembled crowd with eyes that looked more like granite. Then he shrugged apologetically.

"I find this distasteful myself, but... In order to kill a snake, the quickest way is to cut off its head, you understand. I apologize for this necessity, and will not hand off the responsibility to one of my men. No, this deed is required of me."

Julian pulled back the hammer of his gun, and was shot through the chest.

The muffled blast of the carbine rang through the concourse.

Julian Foss fell back from the force of the shot, hitting the ground to land in a sitting position. The wound over his heart was just starting to bleed. He looked at it curiously, before gazing up at the elevator. Scott stared back at him through the tinted glass.

"I see," Julian said in a tone of voice filled not with shock or horror, but quiet understanding.

He collapsed.

There was a brief moment of stunned silence.

Then everything went to hell.

Brilliant flashes of white light filled the room, and an incredible noise boomed throughout it. And with every flash and roar, a mercenary disappeared. The SeeDs huddled to the floor, shock waves blasting them from every directing.

Hendrow was thrown to the floor, a feeling of incredible dizziness overcoming him.

"What is happening?" He gasped, voice lost in the cacophony. Then in another flash and thunder and he too was gone.

Then it was over, and the noise faded into silence. The room was blackened and torn, pieces of the walls, floor and even the ceiling littering the cratered area. Stunned, the SeeDs rose to their feet, astounded by the damage.

Everybody jumped when Zell was the first to speak.

"What the fuck was tha-"

"Scott!"

At Rinoa's cry everyone turned to see Scott stumble out of the elevator. Nida began running towards him, a smile of relief spreading across his face.

"Scott, we thought they had..." His words died as he drew closer.

Everyone could see him, but his appearance jerked and sputtered, fading in and out of transparency. His mouth moved but no sound came out. There was another flash of light and he fell to his knees. He raised his head to meet their eyes, shaking as if fighting against intense pressure. He lifted a trembling arm, hand outstretched in supplication.

Then he wasn't there anymore.


	28. Excerpt

_...claimed not to have been at the scene at the time. In other news, the government has closed off Granite Peak, Utah after what officials have described as the biggest sinkhole to date collapsed, resulting in a land dip over a mile and a half wide. Officials say that no loss of life has been reported, and that there are no signs of any other potentially dangerous sinkholes in the area. Currently there is an investigation underway as to how this might effect the local environment. New research suggests that carcinogens..._


	29. Conversation and Author's Notes

_...And that's that._

**_You mean and that's how you let Hyne do, and do badly, I might add, what you should've done in the first place._**

_Well, when you put it that way..._

**_It makes you look like the negligent piece of crap that you are._**

_Something like that._

**_I don't know why you think you can be so nonchalant about this, but I don't care anymore. I have a few more questions and then I get to leave, hopefully never to see you again._**

_Shoot._

**_The fact that the actual person who fixed everything in the end was not rewarded looks very, very bad. What have you done about that?_**

_You mean Scott. Don't worry about that, I redirected him._

**_To his home._**

_That was implied._

**_And what about the other portal installations that Foss had. Those are a potential threat._**

_Like I made clear, the American government was well aware of them, and they are now no longer an issue._

**_Well, good. The fact of the matter remains however, that this event was dereliction of duty in the extreme._**

_I don't see it that way. I used Hyne to get the job done. I worked through her._

**_No, you didn't. You sat back and prayed it all worked out. That is not how you watch a universe. Our job as Kharadjai is interfere with the day to day things as little as possible, and jump in when something major happens, like say, oh, I don't know, the actual possibility of the complete destruction of an entire universe._**

_All's well that ends well._

**_Save it for the trial._**

-

And so we find ourselves here again.

This story has haunted me for five years now. The characters of Final Fantasy 8 have had, for me at least, an endurance that has yet to be matched by the other worlds I have walked. There is something silent in the imagination that won't let go of these places, of these people with whom I have lived so much.

PENIS!

Bet you thought I was getting all serious on you there for a second, didn't you? Welcome to the second author's note for On Earth as it is in Hell. Version one is dead, as it should be, because it sucked. This version sucks too, but maybe not as much. Maybe.

I am currently referencing my old author's note, since I can't remember crap. I imagine this is supposed to be some sort of bloopers page for the story. Most stories by good authors probably couldn't put together a bloopers page worth reading. I can, but the truth within that is it is actually a bad thing.

Check out that last sentence. Is it is. See what I mean about good authors?

Anyway, as is obviously apparent to anyone with enough brain power to boot up their computer and read this, I was attempting to make a sci-fi fantasy based Final Fantasy 8 real world crossover. Real world crossovers are done all the time in fanfiction. They almost always suck. I wanted to write something that would change that perception. I guess the lesson here is that you don't always get what you want. That lesson makes me cry all the time.

Speaking of crying, here's a great quote from Jeremy Chapter's foreword from Pupu's Saga that I was originally going to use in my old author's note but naturally I forgot. Of course, Jeremy wrote this not out of envy and bitter spite towards authors that are better than him, but instead penned it with respect. I figured I could twist it for my purposes. After reading this last paragraph over, I realize that it had absolutely nothing to do with crying.

"_Be warned that my writing does not exude the elegance or delectability of Kate Lorraine's. My style has neither the refinement nor delicacy of DJ Johnston's; neither the magnitude nor the endurance of Marcus'; neither the sentimentality nor the poignancy of Arian's; neither the temerity nor the intrepidity of Darren Shier's; neither the gravity nor flourish of Larathia's; neither the maturity nor efficiency of Malice Shaw's. I do not elevate the language as the epic tradition behooves like XmagicalX does."_

I would add that my work does not hold the emotional depth of Ashbear, the easy dialogue of Mintbaby, the visceral imagery of DK, the true human spirit of Optical Goddess, the patterned brilliance of Briar Eve Sheurmann, or even the basic competence of Thomas Paxton. Your stories don't make me throw up when I read them Tom, that's the best compliment I can give you. Make of that what you will.

However, be assured this story has a distinct lack of Mary and Marty Sues. Scott Keyor does not look or act like me, and holds in himself only the vestiges of self characterization that all authors exude. As for Michelle, I don't think I even remember what a real woman looks like. I thought I saw one at the mall once, but it was just a mannequin. Didn't stop me from checking out her ass though.

When I started writing this story the concept was that it would be a story by multiple authors, and that every chapter I would hand it off to someone else. The original versions of the first few chapters still have a contributors list at the bottom of them. Basically, just friends of mine who talked to me about the story. The only person who ever actually wrote anything of this story besides me was Gene when he gave me the cafeteria scene. I was always flying solo on this one, but by chapter four or so I no longer had even the illusion it would be a group effort. Thomas Paxton, aka Jee Simovia, had the second largest hand in the story. He never wrote anything for it, but I received tons of feedback and ideas from him.

Here's a little behind the scenes story that will be interesting only to those who have already done absolutely everything else that they possibly could have accomplished today- Julian Foss is a direct character copy from a creation of mine with the dubious name of Mr. D. Back in the day, I used to build Lego cities in Paxton's basement with him and his brothers. I felt the city had a distinct vacuum when it came to organized crime, thus Mr. D was born. His style of speech and manner are loosely based on the main villain in the James Bond film Moonraker. I did make some attempt that he shouldn't be completely evil or in any way actually insane. He's not a good person by any means, but he's also not the devil himself. His sentiments of not wanting to slaughter the SeeDs were honest, but he has convinced himself it is necessary.

Hendrow is just your basic cultured sidekick. Holy unoriginality, Batman.

I attempted to keep the original characters true to the game archetypes while giving them an added depth. I doubt I succeeded, but give me a little credit for trying.

I think my chapters titles weren't all that bad either, barring the ones I blatantly stole.

In my original author's note I explained a little about why the story was so disjointed and uneven. It still is, but not so noticeably. I'll still walk you through it though, since I know that you really care.

1. It was written over a period of about four years. The beginning chapters have been cleaned up a whole lot, but are still obviously weaker in comparison to the later ones. Still, at least they aren't as completely horrible as they used to be. The first version of chapter one didn't even have separated paragraphs.

2. I had no actual plan for the story. I was writing by the seat of my pants up until roughly around chapter thirteen, and even then it was only a vague idea of how I was going to end it. I didn't know how I was going to get there, or how I was going to tie in the whole seven years thing. See, you have to understand that I began this story when fanfiction was new and exciting to me. I just wanted to write something. So I made up a title, On Earth as it is in Hell, and wrote a prologue that I pulled out of my ass on the spot, not knowing that I was giving my future self the job of explaining exactly what the hell it had to do with anything.

3. The periods of time between each chapter were very long, because I am a shitty writer and usually when I sit down to begin working on something I end up blowing people's heads off in one game or the other. This meant that whenever I decided to actually begin writing again, I would have no clue what ideas I had been working off before. Basically, I couldn't remember what I had done previously on the story. It was in this fashion that previously unaccounted for plot points began dotting the story like a minefield, while my main narrative thread was forced to take a winding path through them, stepping carefully and trying to get to the end without setting one off and getting derailed. Several of these plot points have been removed in the rewrite, and in previous rewrites. A few of them remain even though they don't really make much sense, but if I removed them you'd have a lot less to read.

A good example of superfluous plot points that seem to come out of nowhere would be Spreading Sun. I believe that was originally intended as the focus of the story. Now it is a side note, a plot device used simply to reunify Galbadia. Another random plot point was Polground's capture of the SeeDs, though that eventually came together in the story as a sort of cool coincidence, that Julian's invasion in fact allowed the SeeDs to escape. However, since at that point I had no idea where the story was going I can only assume that their capture was at that time the center of the story. I remember struggling to end The Thesis, trying to somehow top off Scott's introduction. I pressed enter, spaced down and sat there for a moment before typing, 'And then the wall exploded'. I didn't know how or why the wall exploded, but it seemed like an exciting way to end the chapter. The only other abandoned plot point that comes to mind was Caraway's deposition and escape.

4. I'm not a very good writer. I am easily distracted by new forms of writing I see in other stories, and the inspiration that gives me drives me to immediately write something in that style without thought to how it fits into the original vision. For example, the mysterious voices. The Kharadjai were not originally intended to be part of the story. They already existed in my mind, but as part of a separate story. Then I read a fanfiction in the Zelda category, I don't remember the name or the author. It was written very oddly, telling a singular tale but through the eyes of an observer, relating the event to someone else in the past tense. The bold italicized lines of vague and strangely fitting dialogue left an impression on me, so I immediately injected this scene into my story-

_-_

_So anyway, what happened was-_

Hyne shut her senses to the state of the universe and concentrated solely on the task at hand. It didn't matter now anyway. If she failed, all would be lost despite her administrations.

_...Did I mention that she talked to Scott?_

_**I think so.**_

_You're probably right, I just couldn't remember._

_**What about Rinoa?**_

_What about her?_

_**What was she doing?**_

_Well-_

Rinoa tried to concentrate on planning the upcoming Garden Festivalbut the memory of her brush with Scott's mind nagged at her. Despite her failure to completely grasp what had happened, just before the feedback hit she had felt something. Something part of whatever was wrong with the world around Scott. If only she could get a handle on it, maybe something could be done.

_**Are you sure that's how it went?**_

_Well, I simply assumed. I wasn't there after all._

_**I know I asked about her, but what does that have to do with anything?**_

_...What do you mean?_

_**It's pointless. It leads nowhere. She never fixed the Knot.**_

_Yeah, but she thought about it._

_**Save it for your book, I want the real story.**_

_My book is about me. How can I tell you what happened if I wasn't there for it all?_

_**Alright, then explain this. How come the portal was completed and Scott was sent through in '98 and Julian didn't arrive until after '99, but Scott hadn't been in Deling for more than a few hours?**_

_Funny story that. Lucky he doesn't remember._

_**You didn't.**_

_Not quite. I never shared all that much. And I never talked to Hyne._

_**I never liked her.**_

_Nobody did._

**_We're getting close to the reason I'm here. You knew about Scott, and you still didn't do your job._**

_I had my reasons._

_**Then I'd better hear them.**_

_You just sat through all that and you still don't get it?_

_**All I get is that if things had gone just a little bit differently I wouldn't be here questioning you, I'd be beating the hell out of you. You know the Council doesn't take kindly to this crap.**_

_Maybe I felt Hyne could handle it._

_**Hyne was a minor deity with a bad track record. If that's true, I'd leave it out of your excuse.**_

_I think the Council would do well to judge me by the end results._

_**I think you would do well to kiss your ass goodbye.**_

_Once a Kharadjai, always a Kharadjai. What are they going to do, impeach me?_

_**No Kharadjai has almost lost an entire universe before. You'd better think fast or they'll have you by the balls and squeeze.**_

_Before you start threatening me again, at least let me finish the story._

_**Fine. But hurry it up, I need to check on A21b in awhile.**_

_Really? What did Brian do?_

_**Few problems with a black hole and a decaying orbit. Nothing compared to the shit you're mired in. Start talking.**_

_Okay, so the Garden Festival was coming soon, and everyone was getting ready for it,_

_-_

Of course, without any thought as to how that fit into the story in any way. As I was writing it, I attempted to reconcile it with the fiction, and the best I could come up with was that they were Kharadjai. Obviously, it was strange they didn't appear until so late in the story. After this rewrite, they appear earlier and play a larger part. That scene has also changed quite a bit from the original version.

As for the Agent, that was random. At least, the first part was. It sort of grew on me, and I enjoyed having a device to get a little more into the lab back on Earthside. The strange parts where he is sort of dreaming are once again inspired by something else that I just absolutely had to imitate- It's a wonder of a story called Sonic: Sketchy. It's the most disturbing, brilliant, visceral, violent and fucked up amazing piece of first person writing I've ever read. Artificial was written entirely because I had read that story and wanted to try a hand at first person writing of my own.

It's by Sean Catlett. You'll just have to do a web search for it because this site sucks ass and absolutely will not allow me to include links or even just typed out addresses. It's the first link that comes up in Google for me, I also apparently cannot use asterisks. Basically, it just fucks up my formatting consistently. Be sure to also read Glint, by M.C. Griffin.They both come up in Google on the same page, they work together. Another disturbing story that makes me want to write something in second person. Doesn't matter if Sonic the Hedgehog isn't your thing, it really isn't mine either but some stories defy the boundaries of interest.

Er, perhaps I should tack on a little warning here, as much as that is against my nature. Those two stories are pretty hardcore. I mean, leave you with a sick, saccharine empty ache all day after reading them hardcore. The kind of stories you don't want to read again even though you know it was one of the best things you've ever seen.

Obviously I don't actually care if you are disturbed by reading those stories, which is why a warning of any sort is highly out of character for me, but I realize the best way to get someone to read something is to warn them away from it. Besides, I wasn't lying.

Anyway, back on topic. One of the most common compliments I receive for On Earth is regarding the humor, which is funny in and of itself because at its heart this is not a humorous story. I will admit, while my drama often concerns feelings of which I know very little, the jokes come straight from me. The fact of the matter is, I think I'm funny. You will have noticed most of the humor is very dry, often sarcastic, occasionally cutting or even dark. My friends know this sense of humor intimately, as in person I use it on all occasions, treating them with cynicism and abuse. Thomas Paxton especially could tell you more on this subject.

I'm glad other people can appreciate this sense of humor, since it is rarely lighthearted and often mean. Judging from reactions however, I'm going to assume it is also fairly funny. It isn't the first false assumption I've ever made, and it certainly won't be the last.

This is the point in which I consider simply copying and pasting from the old author's note, because I'm about to chronicle my mistakes, and that's quite a task. I'm not counting all the typos either.

The first issue I want to cover concerns the fact that the characters in the story are never told about the video game that exists in our world. I'm sure some of you are wondering about that.

Essentially, my thoughts on the matter were that Scott had only a brief experience with the game. Rather than go the obvious route and make Scott a gamer who happened to love Final Fantasy 8, like all self insertion stories in which that dream comes true, my idea was that he had only rented it at one time and thus possessed merely a passing familiarity with only the basest concepts of it.

The idea is never fully explored. Scott seems to have some small beginning knowledge of things, recognizing Selphie and thus his probable location, but he knows nothing of the Garden. Assuming he played only the beginning of the game this makes little sense, since the beginning of the game gives the player the clearest look at Garden available. In the rewrite a half assed line has been added on their approach to Garden from the SeeD boat, in which Scott thinks about the Garden, but his memory of it is vague. Essentially, what we have is someone who played the game once, but had little interest in it.

Again, the idea was never fleshed out. Partly because I didn't want the story to focus on how he knew that this world was a game in his world, but also because that's just the way things turned out. I never really did anything about the fact it was all a game. That wasn't what the story was about.

Further compounding this problem, some of you might remember Scott had the Final Fantasy 8 booklet in his jumpsuit pocket. The original story explanation for this was that his nephew had somehow gotten it in his laundry. This plot point was referenced maybe once or twice in the first few chapters, then promptly disappeared for almost all the rest of the story, making one more appearance when the SeeD clothes were returned by Julian then vanishing again.

This was a plot point so obviously stupid, improbable and contrived that it is nowhere to be seen in this rewrite. The booklet is gone, along with his camera and test tube full of elements (also two other items that never showed up again).

On the topic of the jumpsuit, I fixed a sentenced in which Scott pulls the top and bottom of his jumpsuit out of the bag of returned clothes. Apparently I had forgotten a jumpsuit is all one piece.

Anyway, there really is no resolution for that side of the story. It doesn't matter to the core of the tale, and I saw no point in pursuing it.

It may be wondered why chapter six is so short. It used to be even shorter. Basically, I went over chapter seven one day, I think a couple weeks after posting it, and realized with utter horror that Selphie was in prison with Irvine and Quistis. The problem with that? She had never been captured. In a complete panic I tacked on her capture to chapter six. In the rewrite I have also added a short scene between the Kharadjai for a little exposition and another earlier appearance by them.

And who could forget the part where they're all in the auditorium and the jailer slaps Selphie, and when that happened, 'No one saw Zell bite back his own private rage'. Well, that's real damn interesting considering Zell was back in Balamb when that happened, never mind the fact that it would be extremely out of character for Zell to quell the rage even if he was there. Needless to say, I rewrote that part.

Yes, that last paragraph was directly copied and pasted from the old author's note. So is one of the two paragraphs below this. You figure it out, if you're so smart.

You perhaps might think to yourself, 'Why are Rinoa and Zell back in Balamb?" The answer is quite simple- I forgot to put them in the hotel. By sheer chance, it worked out better that way. You can even make up little explanations to fill the blanks- Zell didn't go to the conference because he's unpredictable, or maybe he had another mission to do, and Rinoa didn't because she isn't a full SeeD yet. Bingo. Problem solved.

Ah, On Earth as it is in Hell, where typos become plot point. Rinoa is leading Zell to Deling, and she tells him to go to a broken down water tower, where hopefully he can climb down into the tower base and get into the sewers that lead to Deling. I type all that out, and just when I've written Zell down into the tunnel I realize, 'Wait. Why would a water tower filled with fresh water be connected to a sewer tunnel'? So of course, Zell points that out.

It's also quite interesting that at the end Hyne doesn't mention the huge Knot over Deling when she's telling Scott that killing Julian will destroy them all. She only says she'll keep his Knot from exploding too. On further review, it may be discovered that Scott will explode because he _is _a Knot himself- the Knot over Deling is just over the city, not the city itself, so the city won't be destroyed. I think I waltzed my way out of that one smoothly enough.

What ever happened to Caraway? The scene serves no purpose other than to be the death of Polground. I wrote it in the dead of night while I was staying over at a friend's house. I wanted to work on my story but couldn't since I obviously didn't have my computer. I booted up his, banged out the Caraway scene, yanked my crank to some free porn, and emailed the scene to myself.

It was never fully explained in the original version why they didn't use their Guardian Forces in the sewer fight. It still isn't even in the rewrite, but I added one line, just one, in a much later chapter to give some insight.

'Casting Protect and Shell on himself and Rinoa, Squall hauled himself to his feet and began to summon Shiva, _praying he had enough time to do so.'_

The italicized line was tacked on to that original sentence in the rewrite and sums up my entire effort to explain why they didn't use their Guardian Forces. That it takes time, and there wasn't any time to stand still in the tunnel and summon something. A better explanation would have been that the Knot over Deling prevented it, but I like to allow the reader to draw their own conclusions. Mostly because it saves my fat ass some writing.

'_And how come they didn't use their Guardian Forces in the tunnel fight? Did I mention something later about the Knot preventing it? I don't even remember. And what the hell kind of lame plot device is Julian mailing them their clothes? And how come it reads like I just stuck Seifer in there for the hell of it? And why did I go on about Quistis' unhappy lack of a love life and then not do anything about it? And how many fucking times can I use 'your' when it should be 'you're' and 'it's' when it should be 'its'? And if Hyne couldn't do anything to the Outsiders, how the hell did she bring Scott to the future? And am I the only one that noticed that Julian never even really had a good reason to attack Garden?_'

That's all from the original author's note, and was my reference when it came to fixing a lot of things in the story. A good number of them still aren't fixed, but you can't have everything I guess. At least not when I'm writing it.

The reason I bring it up is because now I start chronicling the differences between the rewrite and the original version, or at least what differences I can remember.

The obvious ones are things like spelling and the occasional grammar. I also changed many sentences and a lot of dialogue, removing lines, tweaking them, or often even adding new ones. These are too numerous, so I'll stick to the big things.

Like I've said, I put a lot more emphasis on the involvement of the Kharadjai. There's a new bit of them in the prologue and several added scenes over all the chapters up to what used to be their first scene.

The entire thing between Julian and the Garden was handled much differently this time. I changed many lines concerning this. In the original, there really wasn't a very good explanation for why Julian released Seifer and returned their things. Now it is put forward as a peace offering, and Julian wants them to think the new Galbadia government is friendly to keep them off their guard. His reasons for attacking Garden are still not very profound, but I've messed with his dialogue concerning this enough that it seems to make a little more sense. I've attempted to create the impression that he has convinced himself it is in some way necessary.

The relationship between Selphie, Zell and Irvine was given more attention, and hopefully more depth. The feelings involved in the chapters before it comes to a head in Twilight Liaison are extended a little, enumerated on more. The breakup between Selphie and Irvine is more painful and less clean this time around, rather than being so awfully convenient. The Zell and Selphie dynamic has more scenes dedicated to it and is more passionate. I tried to create a little more feeling there, a little more spark.

This of course brings us to the fact that the story has been, for lack of a better phrase, sexed up. Several scenes are rather unapologetically, well, smutty. This is a far cry from the awkward physical scenes of the old version. I imagine this more than anything will cause the most reaction, since you'll be thinking you'd certainly have remembered that if it had been in before. I stop just short before it devolves into flat out pornography, but you get the picture. I spent a lot of time reading romance fanfiction in an attempt to get mine up to scratch. I still don't think I could write a whole story that is nothing but romance, but at least it is I think fairly passable in a smaller context.

There were several other sort of large things done, scenes cut and such but I don't really think I could pinpoint all of them.

The largest change is one I'm sure everybody who read the older version will immediately recognize- Seifer doesn't die.

This decision was made for several reasons. I wanted to give the readers returning something new. I also decided that I enjoyed writing the character of Seifer and wanted to give him more material, or at least some sort of future.

Chapter 26, Hostage Reality was almost entirely rewritten. There is a wealth of new scenes in the chapter. Before, we never really had a look at anything that was happening during the Festival. The new scenes with Zell, Selphie, Seifer and Quistis now give that, as well as providing yet another relationship scene between Zell and Selphie.

For those of you who have never read this story before, here is Seifer's original ending.

-

The upper floors were dark and silent, and the only sign that something was happening in the dim Garden was the faint roar of the party below. The floor tiles gleamed in the low lighting and the click of his boots seemed amplified

Seifer paced the upper floors alone not out of any required duty, but rather a need to remove himself from the dorm in which he spent most of his time like a caged animal. You could only pace the same stretch of floor before you needed somewhere else to rage. So he roamed randomly and almost silently, a ghost distanced from the life of the ongoing gathering. By choice and by necessity. There was no place for darkness amongst the bright lights and colors downstairs, and he was a walking bad memory.

And left with a few bad memories of his own.

Danger.

The real problem with pacing was that it left your mind relatively free, and the last thing he wanted to be doing was thinking. Maybe he needed to take up a sport. Something suitably violent, of course. Boxing maybe. Pounding someone's face in legally had to be better than the punching bag.

A familiar door on his left caught his eye as he passed it. Trepe's room. His face contorted into a sneer. Seemed like everyone in the damn Garden thought they were an item. Because that was just what he needed, someone else as emotionally crippled as himself. Another walking wounded. Fuck that shit.

Of course, he wouldn't be opposed if it was just about sex. Socially he was treated like a leper, and that didn't run well with the ladies. He didn't even try anymore.

Danger.

He stopped, frowning. His skin was crawling, the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. Why? Seifer had always prided himself on his instincts, but he had seen nothing to provoke suspicion.

Then he heard it. A soft scraping noise, like something being dragged across glass. Coming from Trepe's room. He retraced his steps, pausing just outside the door. There is was again. A quiet, squealing rasp. Probably just some stupid kids writing cuss words on the windows while everyone was at the party.

Then why did it scream of something darker?

Carefully, he drew Hyperion from its sheath, relaxing at the familiar comforting whisk of steel against leather. If it was just some kids, at least he'd scare the shit out of them. Slowly, he reached to key open the door. The door slid open before he touched the button.

And a man dressed in black stepped through, assault rifle cradled in his hands.

Seifer had been prepared for this from a young age.

There was no hesitation.

Seifer swung Hyperion upward with full force. With a wet 'chunk!' the blade parted the man's head from the base of his jaw to his forehead, the impact lifting him slightly off his feet. He collapsed without ever making a sound.

He instantly withdrew to take cover, no time to gloat over the clean kill, no time to ponder why there was an armed man in black entering the Garden through an upper level window. The moment he had killed the man the others within had warned him of their presence with several muffled swear words and what sounded like '_One-Air Three down!_'.

Sliding with his back to the wall away from the entrance he slapped down the button to close the door, then smashed his blade through the mechanism in hopes of jamming it shut. Without waiting to see if he was successful, he spun around and ran as fast as he could down the hall towards the stairway, knowing it would be foolish to use the glass elevator if the men should leave the room.

This plan became moot when another door down the hall slid open and more of the intruders poured out. The lead intruder saw Seifer and froze.

"_Contact, Tango-_"

Seifer didn't see the point in waiting for him to finish. Bracing Hyperion with both hands he raised it in a smooth motion and pulled the trigger.

The built in revolver released its tremendous charge, and the weapon bucked heavily in his firm grip. In the hallway the noise was deafening, and Seifer's ears at first ached, then felt like they were filled with cotton and he could hear nothing but a high pitched ringing. The bullet impacted into the man's body armor directly over his heart, disintegrating the first layers of cloth in a smoke like cloud before piercing the organ and lodging in the armor on his back. He spun with the force of it, falling to the floor.

Dazed and deaf, time seemed to slow for Seifer, everything taking place in a silent haze. He cast Protect on himself before looking back over his shoulder. The other enemies by the door scattered like a school of fish, some ducking back into the entryway, a few sprinting past their fallen comrade and going behind a wall alcove on the other side. There was a dull roar back the way he had come, and the door to Trepe's room blew outward with a blinding flash. When his vision cleared the assailants had already made it halfway across the hall to more cover.

One of them was crouched in the doorway, aiming at him.

_Not today, I think._

Seifer raised his arm and let loose a Firaga spell.

Momentarily the hallway was obscured by a raging explosion of flame. Bottled by the walls of the corridor it shot across the tile each way, swallowing everyone around Seifer in its deadly heat. Seifer felt the sweet exultation of victory surge through him. From what he had seen these enemies were nothing more than regular army. It would take someone with high magical power to survive a spell of that magnitude. And he should know. The spell faded and the smoke cleared as if it was never there.

And the soldier at the door hadn't moved.

_What the fu-_

The Heckler Koch Mp5-A5 shook three times as the soldier flipped it onto its burst setting and squeezed the trigger. Seifer winced and braced himself for the painful shock that accompanied the impact of bullets on a Protect spell.

It never came.

But he felt the searing blow of 9mm bullets tearing their way through his flesh.

Somehow, in the space of seconds everything had gone terribly wrong. If time had seemed to slow before, now it stopped. His thoughts trickled through the haze of pain.

_Somebody hit rewind, because I want to see that again._

_Even anti-heroes aren't supposed to die._

_But I seem well on my way._

_Maybe I should have said I was sorry._

_Maybe I should never have done it at all._

_...No 'maybe' there._

_I am actually sorry._

_Why is it so cold?_

_...Fuck. Dying hurts._

Then it didn't.

-

You will probably recognize this scene from its new and almost completely altered form as being the death sequence of the janitor Gerce.

First what happened is that I just cut the scene entirely. But then I looked it over again and I saw I had this pretty good action scene already set up, and without it the story was much shorter. So I decided to introduce a new character and alter the scene to fit.

Originally the character was really going to just be a janitor, your basic story cannon fodder. He sees the enemies, he dies. But then all the action would go to waste. I felt the scene needed to remain violent, that there needed to be more consequence against the people invading the Garden.

So I came up with the Carver. It was obviously never explained very well in the story, but the concept was that the Carvers were an elite military group during the First Sorceress War. If you'll notice in my story the Protect spell is made out to block bullets, but not a sword. I extended this concept to the belief that magic is primarily a ranged tool, both offensively and defensively. As I imagined, the Carvers were assassins, using stealth to close the distance between them and a magic user, where they could kill them at close range. I think this is a really interesting concept, so don't be surprised if I self-plagiarize and use it in another story of mine.

Another thing I can remember being an issue was the section of the story that was song-fic. That was removed with great pleasure. I can't believe I did that.

As I've said, there were very many other small changes made over the course of the rewrite. Some of them may be noticeable, others less so. I hope you will at least see significantly less typos.

Here's another piece stolen directly from my previous author's note-

'_Anyway, there are a few reasons I wanted to write this story. Most of them have to do with Purgatio, by Marcus, who is now 'Marcus1' on Please, go read it. It was the first fanfiction I had ever read, my introduction to the genre, and my driving force to write everything I have in the hopes that someday, maybe I could write something like it. _

_There are others, of course. Darren Sheir, Ashbear. XmagicalX. DK. Kate Lorraine. My good friend Sergeant Phoenix. Even Marco Leonstrife, who got me started here on think it's a shame that so many new authors have never read the classics by these people. You used to be able to find these stories on indie Final Fantasy VIII fanfiction sites all over the web, the precursors to and could often be superior to getting the best. Now most of them are gone, swallowed into the abyss of Geocities, Tripod and Angelfire. _

_I often miss those magical first days where I realized that people actually wrote stories about books and games and movies they liked. I remember my first story on a rant designed to infuriate people who liked the SquallQuistis pairing (it was forcefully removed shortly after). Back then didn't even have a chaptering system, and the Final Fantasy VIII section had about 2000 stories, which meant maybe 1200 with all the separate chapters. Maybe even less. _

_When I started writing this all I wanted was twenty reviews. Then fifty. Then all I wanted was a hundred reviews. I guess the moral here is, if you get what you want you'll never stop being greedy. So give me more reviews goddamnit. Now_.'

That last part still applies, by the way. Help yourself to the review box, it's free you know.

You probably noticed that a great deal of this author's note has to do with expanding on things that were never completely explained in the story itself. This is I'm afraid, part of my writing style. I am very brief when it comes to bringing across ideas- I present the picture, but I rarely belabor the point. I expect my audience to draw their own conclusions. This is probably not the best way to write a story, but it does lend itself to being a personal style. I've been somewhat harsh with myself over the course of this insanely long author's note, but I will say I am proud of one thing- I have a distinctive style and tone to my writing. It may not be a very good style or tone, but it is one of my own.

Now we get down to the thanks. This is the part you can skip if you don't care about all the people who supported this story.

First I'd like to thank Weiila for archiving this story at Likewise to Icy Brian for accepting it at his site.

I'm just working my way down the review list here.

CTHKSI- You know, the ending wasn't originally happy until I added the epilogue. Guess I'm a sucker too after all.

Quela- Yes, Zelphie is oddly rare on this site, even though it does make a great deal of sense. Thank you for reviewing.

Kingfish- Well, thank you for reviewing. I hope this thing stays around for years. Then I can keep tacking on worthless extra chapters to bump it back up to the top.

UltraBeing- With my writing habits I find it hard to conceive I could ever write a novel, but one can always hope. Sorry you never caught me on AIM, I don't log on very often. Feel free to drop me a line if you still crave company.

Jeremy Chapter- I stole from your foreword. Thanks for writing that so I didn't have to.

Ashbear- My dear Ashbear. I still hold that email you sent me dear to my heart, which is undoubtedly creepy for you. I'd love to do a story with you someday, but since you have your pick of far better authors, I'll just keep reaching for that rainbow. Did you ever use one of my characters in Dancing in Time, or did that fall through? I think you must have done something because I have this nagging feeling that I'm being ungrateful. Oh well, I'll just get drunk. That will take care of it.

Jee Simovia- Mr. Paxton, as you like to be called now. My only regret is that you couldn't be looking over my shoulder for most the rewrite, but at least you were home long enough to see a part of the creative process, and even influence it. I don't remember what you said, but I don't remember much I guess. For those that don't know, I wrote this story with mountains of input from him. I didn't need you Jee, but at least you cared. Sucker.

You need to send me some more emails man. I know you don't have much time over there in the Sandbox, but really, c'mon. Hurry up, I ain't got forever to wait you know. That's a lie, I guess. Hey, here's a disgustingly and uncharacteristically sappy moment for us.

_lemonade stands and memories_

_of innocence and purity_

_and the noonday sun at ninety degrees_

_these things I carry with me_

_the ice cream man at four or five_

_how'd we flag him down and ask for rides_

_and evenings when we'd sit outside_

_and name the cloud shapes in the sky_

_those days are gone now and we must carry on_

_but I will not forget the things I learned on your front lawn_

_and how we rode those dusty trails_

_on Huffys and Schwinns from Christmas sales_

_made forts out of crates with rusty nails_

_and only came home when our stomachs failed_

_those days are gone now and we must move forward still_

_but I will not forget the things I understood at your window sill_

_I walked your street again last night_

_and laughed to dull the sting of spite_

_but your door was dark and it made me cry_

_because your mother always kept you shining bright_

_but things they change and people grow_

_and move in step with the green paper flow_

_but deep inside I wonder or maybe I already know_

_they never really find the answers_

Mineral – _80-37_

Better put away your laptop before your CO asks you why you're crying, nostalgia boy.

And watch your ass, okay? I really don't want to have to dedicate this story to your memory.

Ni-Chan- If this is the best FF8 Fanfiction you've ever read, you probably haven't been reading the right stories. But thank you, that is rather flattering.

Veritech- You really stuck with this story, so thank you for reviewing so much. Yes, I did leave a big plot thread open. It was quite intentional so that I could write the sequel, which is now unfortunately obsolete thanks to the rewrite.

Rin, Rinoa, darkintrigue, whatever your name is this week- I believe I said something about making love to an imagined likeness I had taped to my pillow. Thanks to the booming computer graphics industry, I now have a three-dimensional rendering that I've constructed from wire and strips of linen. I just can't seem to get your lips right though. I don't suppose you'd let me scan your body into my computer? You'd have to be naked, but I assure you it is purely in the interests of art. Thanks for all the reviews.

Ashes- I'm glad you thought it worked better than most crossovers. That was my intention, be a shame if I failed at that like I do at everything else. Good on ya.

Anise Demonica Black- Hell of a name you have there. Rather than hoping you can someday be half as good as me, you should aim to be roughly 12685433 as good as me, as that is a goal worth reaching.

Fang Xianfu- Another faithful regular, I owe a lot to your support. You never did collect on whatever damned sort of think I was supposed to give you for figuring the location of Julian's base. And if I'm lucky, it will stay that way.

LiquidSky- Yes, I remember I did say I'd send you a bundt cake. Apparently, I lied. I do that sometimes. Hopefully, if you come back and reread this monstrous mass of words, you'll find it improved.

GG Crono- Thanks for including me along with those other fine stories, I knew that if I succeeded in doing a good real world crossover it would be a rare breed indeed.

Voodoo Fyrefly- I have a bone to pick with you. In Bloom. Summer's Gone. NOT FINISHED. What happened to that Zelphie lemon held out in front of me as the proverbial carrot to make me write more? I wrote more. NO LEMON. I guess it just goes to show who my friends really are around here. Well, I still owe you a lot for all those reviews. Thanks a bunch Tio. Oh, and I do remember saying that I loved you with both my kidneys. You replied that your livers loved me too, which is odd since the human body only has one liver. Are you some sort of mutant freak? Can I get a picture?

LunarCry- Always great to get reviews from a talented author, makes me feel like my work might be worth something. Glad we met at RPGC. Hopefully this rewritten version will make it up there too.

Refugee- Again, this story seems to attract some of the better authors. Which is cool, since it lends my reviews a little more credence. Thanks for dropping me a line.

Yorun- Thanks for being a regular reviewer. You know, whenever I stopped working on this thing what would always bring me back was going through my reviews once again. You guys really kept me going.

Cloud-123- Yes, I thought that was funny too. That's why I wrote it. Thank you for reviewing.

Angel Almasy- Thank you for being so supportive of my writing when we talked on AIM. And also thank you for bothering to review.

Tigerofthewind- I hope you're happy that although Seifer survived in this version of the story, there is still no Seiftis. Although it's not quite the commercial pairing it used to be, my story didn't really need it. Thank you for all those great reviews you gave me.

Briar Eve- You gave me some excellent feedback on these stories, and it was well heeded. I only hope you read far enough to get past those rough beginning chapters you commented on.

Honor- Thank you, I tried my best. Well, most of the time.

Zachere- Certainly some well deserved criticism on your part. Fortunately most of that is now gone from the story, a distant memory of a mistake once made. As for all the problems I had with your and you're and its and it's, I'm crossing my fingers when I say most of those should be gone now, although I'm not stupid enough to say all.

Fierce Deity- Sorry that they never found out about the video game. It was my intention to downplay that aspect of the story. You'll notice that Scott really doesn't know that much about the game, having had only a brief experience with it.

Golden Fenix- Thank you for reviewing, I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Entei- I didn't stop. And I still haven't. Thanks for reviewing.

Celestial Angel- The plot itself isn't anything write home about, but I think the concepts behind it are pretty good. Thank you for reviewing.

Goudess- Those were some awesome reviews you wrote. Thanks for taking that much time to tell me what you thought.

Kari2001- Thank you very much. I really wanted to explore this concept of realistic crossover. Or, at least realistic compared to most of them.

AW- Thanks for reviewing, you lovable initials you.

Martin Rothes- I know you personally, so I can say with utter certainty that you're a no talent hack and your only saving grace is that you can play guitar. Woman.

Leviathan- Thank you for reviewing back when this story was as crappy as it was.

Yuuki- Yet another review to the pile. Every little bit helps. Nice of you.

Meirelle Emeraldeyes- Your emoticons impressed upon me without doubt, that you did indeed enjoy the story.

Marcus- I can't believe I got a review from you, and though it was back when the story was crappy as hell, my only regret is that you never saw the full thing. You inspired me to begin writing everything I ever have in fandom.

Bodger- Constructive criticism well need, and well used. Thank you.

Lindsey- Yes, Scully does love Mulder. But lets just keep that between you and me. Thanks for reviewing.

abcxyz- My only negative review isn't really all that negative. Thanks for adding some flavor in there.

Marco- You introduced me to this website and I can never repay you for that. Which is good, because I wouldn't anyway. Thanks for faithfully reviewing along the way, even though you don't actually give a shit.

Sergeant Phoenix- In honor of our online friendship, I dedicate this story to you. Partially. The smallest part.

Ah, hilarity.

For those of you who have struggled through this obscenely massive author's note and completely superfluous ramblings that have been including solely for my amusement, here at the end of all things I bid you farewell. I hope you enjoyed On Earth as it is in Hell the second time around (hopefully the first for some of you). I certainly enjoyed writing it. Well, most of the time anyway.

Caleb out.


	30. Epilogue

_'If this isn't Hell,'_ Kharan thought to himself. _'Then I don't know what is.'_

He was at a concert, which was in itself not a problem. He had always been partial to the occasional live event. No, his beef was with the 'band' playing, although calling them a band was heresy in his opinion. The five young men jumped around on stage in time to bad pop music, amusing an endless sea of teenyboppers, many with concerned parents trying to shelter them from the other overzealous masses.

But he wasn't here for the atmosphere. His current target resided backstage.

Kharan easily slipped past the security, eluding them with a simple screen. _'Old Jedi mind trick,'_ He smirked, giving one clueless guard the finger. The man smiled uncertainly, as if unsure whether Kharan was even there. Within seconds the man became distracted by another screaming female attempting to force her way backstage, and Kharan faded from his mind like fog on a windy day.

Threading his way through empty amp cases and bustling roadies, Kharan made his way to a staircase in the back and descended into the theater's basement, the roar of the concert muffled to the dull thuds of the bass. Pipes and cables intermixed on the concrete walls and ceilings. It was vaguely damp, and chilly. Kharan rubbed his arms, wishing he had brought a jacket despite his superhuman tolerances for heat and cold.

Around the next corner clanks and rattles emerged, the sound of a metal lid slamming and the tinny sound of headphones attempting to drown out the noise overhead. Kharan smiled to himself, glad he wasn't alone in his hatred. He turned the corner and observed the man before him.

Scott Keyor was different now, to be sure. The trials and tribulations past had changed him. In the end, he had been returned, but the world he came back to was not the one he remembered.

The science of dimensions was inexact and difficult to comprehend, but Kharan knew that while the two universes had been connected, the violence in one had affected the other. Scott had returned to find that his family believed him dead and moved on, the mourning process long over. Most of his immediate family had been killed in a car crash, and now it was his turn to grieve. GPSS was long disbanded and should the government know of his return they would most certainly complicate his life in ways he didn't want it to be. He was friendless, jobless, and had few relatives, all of whom weren't open to the idea of having this strange new Scott Keyor staying with them.

Legally dead and known to only a few, Scott changed his name and wandered across the country, finally taking work as a handy man's assistant in Bremerton, Washington. Not a day went by that the irony of his situation didn't hit home. He had spent all that time wishing to be exactly where he was now, and when he finally made it there it was worse than he had ever imagined it could be. Somehow, it had just seemed like things would go back to normal if he returned home. He should have known better. Things just weren't that easy.

Kharan sighed. Really, he should have done more, and he knew it. But he was making amends now. Whether it was voluntary or not wasn't the point. He walked over and tapped Scott on the shoulder.

Scott pulled the headphones out of his ears and hit the stop button on his player, turning tired eyes in Kharan's direction. "Yes?"

"Hey. What's up?"

Scott motioned towards the pipes he had been working on. "Just a small leak. Why, you work for the manager?"

"Nope. Right now I'm in the same business as you are. Fixing things."

"Well, I don't actually need any help, thanks."

"Yes you do."

Scott frowned. "No, I don't. But if I do, I guess I know who to go to. Later."

With that, Scott turned his attention back towards the battered piping. Kharan rolled his eyes, and tapped him on the shoulder again. This time Scott didn't turn around. "Look, are you just here to bug the crap out of me, or do you actually want something?"

"Michelle misses you."

That got his attention. "What?"

"Michelle. About five five, great smile, lives at the Garden."

To Kharan's surprise, Scott just let out a bitter laugh, placing his head against the wall. "Great. Wonderful. What now, your world is invading ours? Yours is better you know."

Kharan shook his head. "Okay, just shut up, all right? I'm trying to help you here. The name's Kharan. Spell it K-H-A-R-A-N. But it's pronounced 'Karen'. Just wanted to get that straight, I get tired of people called me all sorts of stupid names just because of the spelling. Now hold on."

Scott watched in confusion and Kharan dug around in his pocket, before extracting a crumpled piece of paper. Spreading it, Kharan read it off with a look of resignation, his voice wooden. "I, Scott Kharan, hereby apologize to Scott Keyor for any and all psychological damage he may have incurred as a result of my negligence. As part of my reparations (as ordered by the Court of Elders) I will do whatever is necessary to improve his life, blah blah blah, must comply or be subject to harsh repercussions, blah, banishment, blah blah, to be completed with all due haste."

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

"The whole thing with Hyne and the portal, it all ended up okay but apparently the Elders, _fuckemall, _decided that wasn't enough and as 'appropriate' sentencing for my 'negligence', I have to haul your ass back to the other universe and the arms of Michelle so that you will live, and I shit you not, they actually said this, 'happily ever after'. Wow, I need a tissue."

Scott saw no point in trying to pretend he was dreaming. Reality had become far stranger than fantasy at some time long past. Kharan reached down and hauled him to his feet.

"So enough with the socializing," Kharan said. "Lets get going. Oh, but we have to make a quick sidetrip. Won't take long."

Before Scott could get out a word the basement dissolved into blackness.

He found himself in a hallway, much like any other. It was a dull white color, the uniform wood doors lining the walls were evenly spaced. There were no markings on any of them, and no visible source of light that Scott could see. Kharan watched his reactions with amusement.

"Nice huh? No really, it's nothing to look at. This hallways only represents what we are really seeing, that being something mere beings like you and me couldn't comprehend. When it comes to seeing the true nature of the spaces between and how all this crap fits together, that's all best left to the Maker. He's called many things. You might call him God. Of course, since you people can't actually agree on what sort of God he is, I don't think you should be allowed to call him anything."

Kharan pointed to one of the doors.

"See that one? Lord of the Rings. Timeline should be about the middle of the second book by now. Never did like that universe. Nobody has a sense of humor. That and it's currently caught in a loop, the whole war for Middle Earth thing repeats itself. It should break free sometime in the next three hundred thousand years. Not my job to keep an eye on it though, so whatever."

Kharan walked over to another door that looked exactly the same, knocking on it. "This one goes to Star Wars. I've been there a few times. A lot to look at, not much to do. That whole thing with Luke is long over, they're all dead now. Things have gotten pretty slow around there."

"Now this one," Kharan indicated. "Is a bit of a mystery. It's empty right now. When the Maker crafts a universe it's sort of like a cup waiting to be filled. We all look forward to see what he'll come up with next."

Scott broke the monologue tentatively. "Are you.. Angels?"

"What? Noooo. Kharadjai. Separate order. Different species, really. Angels handle the spiritual side of things. Us, we're just people, like you. Imperfect, flawed. We just happen to be immortal. But not in the way you might imagine."

"How so?"

"Look, I could get into the whole thing. I could tell you how the power we come with is prepackaged but takes a lot of practice to control, how even lifting a cup up off a table isn't like using the fucking 'Force' or something, it's a carefully calculated equation in which you have to determine how much raw power to exert on the cup to lift it and on which angles to continue it to get it to float there. I could tell you how if I anticipate a bullet I can block it by having it disintegrate on impact with my skin but if it catches me by surprise I'll get hurt. I can heal myself instantly, but that takes a lot of energy, and if I keep getting hurt and having to heal myself eventually I'll get too tired to do anything else. We can't die, of course. You could drop a house on me. I'd get smashed into a fine pulp and it would take hours for me to pull together the energy to regenerate my body, but I'd live eventually. I could also tell you that due to that nature of the power it is a little iffy to use it in combat since if you fuck up, say, try to exert force on a guy to throw him back into a wall but mess up and use too much and instead explode his body with such force the bone shards hit innocent bystanders with killing speed, so we instead use regular weaponry. But I'm sure you wouldn't be interested in all that now, would you."

"...I-"

"I didn't think so." Kharan turned back to the doorways. "This one here is one of my favorites. Universe1234567a. It has a number because it hasn't been written about yet, or made into a movie or anything. But let's just say it's filled with a lot of hot Elf women who are quite willing, if you get my drift."

Without stopping to see if Scott did indeed get his drift, Kharan strode down several more doors and stopped at another one, putting his hand on the knob. "And this is the door we will be going through. I'm sure you'll recognize the time period. When Hyne pulled our dear Private Randall through the Knot it messed a few things up, so I'm supposed to go in and check on the Kharadjai who was sent to fix it, see if he's done yet."

With that Kharan opened the door, and everything went black again.

Yet again, it was raining. The rubble was slick under Scott's feet as he tried to keep up with Kharan. They moved through the upper levels of a shelled out building, the rumble of distant fighting filtering through the foggy air. It was like being inside a cistern, ringing with wet drops splashing on rock and cold rivulets running down the back of his neck.

"_Hey!_" Kharan whispered. Scott looked up to see him trying to get the attention of a man lying in a crack in the floor, sniper rifle cradled against his body as he peered through the scope out over the city. "_Malin! Dude, over here!_"

"I know Kharan," Malin muttered. "Always great to see you."

Kharan and Scott moved over next to Malin's prone form. Kharan leaned back against a pile of shattered bricks, look for all the world as if he was basking while attending a picnic in the sun. "So Malin, what's the word?"

"Word is you're doing community service."

"But enough about me. What's the word on you, Malin?"

"Look through the scope and see for yourself."

Kharan scuffled over and Malin moved aside. Kharan put his face up to the scope. "Damn. Nice shootin' Tex. If you got him, why are you still here?"

"Waiting for you," Malin grumbled. "Took you long enough."

"Okay, well, nice work. I'll let them know you're finished."

Scott was lost throughout the proceedings. Kharan noticed, and took it on himself to explain. "That Randall guy was supposed to kill an officer of the S.S., but since he was in Final Fantasy eight dimension he never got around to it. This Waffen creep goes on to create a nasty little piece of technology that really fucks things up for the world. So Malin goes to a different here and now, Stalingrad, and snipes the bastard. The joys of silenced weaponry. They never knew he was anywhere near."

"Malin goes to the here and now thanks to your friend here," Malin added. "Nice work on that Kharan."

"Hey, you have no right to judge. You weren't there for any of it."

"I didn't have to be. I know you."

"Yeah, whatever man. Just don't expect much from me next Christmas. Let's go Keyor."

They were back in the hallway again, Scott hurrying to keep up with Kharan's stride. Slowing, Kharan stopped again. "Okay. This is it. Now, I'm pretty sure this is the right thing to do, but on the off chance you have seconds thoughts and want to stay in your own world that's okay too, because even if you end up being unhappy because of that choice I'm off the hook. It would be your own dumbass fault. In my opinion, you should go back to the Garden. You have friends there now, you're fairly familiar with the world, and on a similar note I checked the books and you and Michelle are soulmates. Thought that might interest you."

For the first time in a long time, everything seemed too good to be true. The last few months had shown him one thing at least. There was nothing left for him back 'home'. He needed a new one.

Maybe the Garden already was.

"Send me in."

Kharan smiled. "I figured you'd do the right thing. This is what the Elders wanted for you, so you're actually following destiny at the moment. Doesn't weird you out that fate is nothing more than the machinations of a bunch of creepy old guys? It does me. But at least this way you know you'll be happy. Fate, read- 'The Elders', always rewards those who follow it, or in your case, did a great thing for the universe. I couldn't be happier with the way you came through. Mostly because if you had failed my ass would be rotting on some god forsaken ice rock of a planet in what we Kharadjai call a 'Marooniverse'. Later."

With a push, Scott was through the door.


	31. Life Starts Here

They had never even kissed.

Michelle paused in her work, her fingers idly brushing across the back of a filing folder, the texture of the manila paper not really registering with her. Her eyes were vacant, and although to a casual observer she might appear to be focused on the calendar that hung on the wall, she saw nothing.

This sort of melancholy was unlike her, she chided herself, though in all truth she was not alone. Ever since the earth shaking events of the past week, the entire Garden had been steeped in a quiet sadness. Mercenaries were no strangers to death, but their very home had been violated. A miasma of grief hung over the Garden.

As for herself, Michelle had been wrestling with a sense of great loss. Scott had been torn from her, but he was a man that she had known only for days. Terrible she should suffer the loss of a friend, yes, but it felt so much worse.

And they had never even kissed.

Her mind returned to that thought frequently, she found. And every time she thought it again, barely restrained tears pushed at the brink. Her throat was tight all the time now, lack of sleep adding dark rings to her eyes. She teetered on the edge of an emotional breakdown she couldn't explain. She thought maybe she was going crazy. Or maybe she was already gone.

They had never even kissed. Not once.

A quiet sob slipped through her defenses, surprising her and she quickly covered her mouth with a hand. She wouldn't cry, not here. Strength was needed in the Garden now, even if she didn't have it.

A small and bitter smile twisted her once pretty lips, now pale and trembling. It had been explained to her, and everyone what had happened. Of course, the one man who had truly captured her attention could never have been hers. Of course she had fallen in love with an alien.

Oh Hyne. She had loved him? She had loved him. No, no no. Not in just a few days. It wasn't possible. It couldn't happen. How could she have let it happen? Things like that didn't happen. Not to her, not to anyone. How could she have loved him?

The admittance was more pain than she could bear, and the tears began to slip through her clenched eyelids to flow in warm rivulets down her tired face.

She couldn't do this.

Michelle dropped her files, abandoning all pretense of composure and walking as quickly as she could down the halls to her dorm room, ignoring all the stares and sympathy she drew. Oh yes, she was the girl who had it bad for that guy who exploded. Scott what's his name. Poor thing. Must have been a terrible shock. Abrupt anger clenched her fists, leaving nails marks in her palms. What the fuck did they know. They didn't know she had loved him.

She hadn't known either, though.

She reached her dorm room and keyed it open, locking it behind her. As quickly as it had arrived, her anger changed targets. Damn him. Damn him for not telling her who he was, where he had come from. He had _lied_ to her, one of omission. Her state of mind wouldn't allow her to wonder why she felt he had owed her that sort of honesty.

The he had left her, just vanished and gone back to wherever he had came from like she didn't even matter, leaving her to be stared at, to be talked about like she was some kind of fucking widow, like she had been left standing at the altar. How could this hurt so much? How could anything so new scar so deep?

And he had _left_ her. Left her like he didn't even care, like she didn't matter, like he had anything to do but break promises he had never spoken but she had heard anyway and oh my God, she had loved him she had loved him and he was gone.

Michelle collapsed on her bed and could no longer restrain the weeping.

-

It was at a certain point, not long after everything had dissolved into darkness, that Scott became somewhat concerned. He was experiencing a falling sensation, which he reasoned could not be a good thing, as he had been standing on solid ground before the fadeout. He wasn't afraid of falling per se, but depending on the distances involved it could end very badly.

A light appeared not too far ahead of him. He squinted, trying to discern its nature. It was growing, become brighter and larger, and soon enough he had passed through it. The light faded, and was replaced with a more ambient room light.

With a start, he realized he was falling from someone's ceiling.

"GAH!"

-

Started from her reverie by a sudden shout, Michelle rolled over on her bed just in time to make out the object of her sadness hurtling towards her.

Scott landed heavily with nothing to slow his fall, smacking into Michelle in a sudden tangle of limbs and bed sheets.

Somewhere, Kharan snickered.

Dazed, Scott lifted himself to his knees, having difficulty keep his balance on the soft sinking surface of the mattress. He wallowed around, trying to free himself from the sheets that had somehow wrapped around him. He was aware that someone else was doing the same, their identity obscured by the bedspread that had wrapped around them when they had rolled off the bed. He hoped they weren't hurt, whoever they were. Kharan obviously had a questionable sense of humor.

His thoughts were swept away by an overwhelming feeling of relief and affection when Michelle threw the last of the covers off her head, revealing her stunned visage framed by now wild hair.

"Michelle!" Scott gasped, a true smile creasing his features. It was perhaps because of his sudden bout of joy that he didn't see her hand incoming until it smacked with great velocity into the side of his face. "Ow, God!"

"You _bastard_!"

Of all the things he might have expected Michelle to express upon his return, incredulous rage was not one of them. He fearfully shrunk back against the wall as she slowly cornered him with blazing eyes.

"You left me!" She yelled at his confused and cowering form. "You left me just standing there, without knowing what happened to you, and you lied to me! You never told me who you were or where you were from, and I didn't even realize I loved you until you were gone and then I couldn't tell you _because you left me_!"

Scott held his hands out in a placating manner, as if trying to calm a rabid wolverine. "Michelle-"

"No! Shut up!" She pointed a furious finger at the edge of the bed. "Sit here. Now."

Scott complied.

"Now you are going to give me that first kiss I never got at the Festival, and it better be good and worth all this _crap_ you put me through." Michelle crossed her arms, glaring at him.

Scott eyed her mouth nervously, wondering if she was in fact going to bite him. Michelle took the pause to mean refusal and began to lift her hand for what would no doubt be another painful blow.

"Whoa!" Scott leaned away from her. "I- I didn't know you wanted a kiss.."

Michelle threw up her hands as if he had said the stupidest thing in the world. "You _owe_ me a first kiss, Scott Keyor. Now pay up."

Scott fidgeted, uncertain of how to approach the situation but knowing he had better do it before she belted him again. Should he purse his lips for a smooch? Go for something a little more intimate and tender? Play it safe with the classic and inoffensive peck? Slip her the tongue? He looked her in the eyes again, gauging her mood. No, no tongue.

Her brows began to lower at his hesitation and knowing he was out of time, he panicked. Leaning over, he quickly pressed his lips to hers, tilting his head to the side slightly for the right fit. Slow, he thought. Slow. He moved his lips slightly, exerting a gentle pressure on her lower lip before opening wider and capturing her mouth again, pulled away with a soft smack. Resuming his position on the edge of the bed, he felt it had gone fairly well.

Michelle licked her lips, face lost in thought as if she was judging whether or not it was an acceptable first kiss. Scott anxiously awaited her decision, feeling not only that failure would bring more pain, but also a certain amount of pride lost.

Returning her eyes to him, Michelle gave him a curt nod. "Okay, now we can move on to the rest."

Scott was forced to fling his arms backward to catch himself and prevent his head from hitting the wall when she jumped on him, sealing her lips with his again and jamming, there was no other word for it, her tongue down his throat. Feeling vaguely violated but even more turned on, Scott tentatively wrapped his arms around her and returned the kiss.

He was just beginning to get the rhythm down and was relaxing into the experience when something she had said several minutes before registered. Gripping the sides of her head, he pulled her away to stare somewhat wildly into her eyes. "Did you say you loved me?"

Her eyes were so deep he thought he might drown. "Yes."

He was thunderstruck. "But… How?"

With her lips still swollen from their kisses and her hair tumbling freely down the smooth expanse of her neck, he thought she had never looked more beautiful. She shrugged in answer, smiling a little self-consciously. "I just do."

Actually, if he took into consideration Kharan's parting words, it did make a certain amount of sense. Still, he found it disturbing that his fate was in fact not his own. But with Michelle laying warm and soft on top of him, her glorious eyes filled with quiet apprehension for his answer, he found little to protest about his set future.

"Well, that's good," He said finally. "I was too chickenshit to say it first."

She laughed then, and kissed him with a wonderful passion, and he couldn't understand how he had ever lived without it.


	32. A Long Awaited Drinking Party

_Well, I guess you owe me an apology._

_**What the hell are you doing here?**_

_Is that any way to greet an old friend?  
_

_**If by friend you mean parole violator, then yes, it is.**_

_Just thought you'd be happy to see me, since I beat the rap and all._

_**Oh yes, you 'beat the rap'.**_

_What do you mean by that?_

_**Didn't you hear the Councilman when he said you would be attending again in a few weeks?**_

_Probably just to give me a little slap on the hand since they couldn't make the big charges stick._

_**Yes, that must be it.**_

_...You know something I don't?_

_**I thought you knew everything.**_

_Haha. I see you're still unfairly bitter about the whole thing. Way to hold it against me._

…

_You still with me?_

_**Here's to undeserved victories and, ahaha, getting off 'Scott' free. Cheers.**_

_Cheers!_

_Wait. Why did you laugh when you said that last bit?_

_Hey! Where are you going?_

_...Oh well. He'll be back._


End file.
